


Even To The Wild Woods

by steelneena



Series: Through the Seasons [4]
Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anal Sex, Biking accidents, Blow Jobs, Canon Setting, Concussions, Dream Sex, F/F, F/M, Hand Jobs, Happy Ending, Inspired by Tennyson, Lost Memories, M/M, Minor Body Horror, Past Lives, Reincarnation, Tender Sex, also, canon caleb typical background angst but it's all in memories and NOT explicitly descriptive., love is the best kink, returning memories
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-04
Updated: 2019-09-04
Packaged: 2020-01-04 21:55:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 94,621
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18352466
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/steelneena/pseuds/steelneena
Summary: Caleb Widogast is a young man attending college in Oldenburg, Germany. After an accident on a bicycle, he starts having dreams. Strange dreams. Dreams about...himself? Dreams he forgot he had before, long ago, as a child. Dreams of a man from another world, a man named Bren Aldric Ermendrud, a mage of mythic days who also had dreams, dreams of fire and dreams of a creature, a lavender hued humanoid, trapped within a willow, seeking freedom from magical confines.To the chagrin of all around him, Caleb begins to suspect they might be memories of a past life.  As he lives out in dreams what happened to Bren Aldric Ermendrud and the Nymph, a mystic named Mollymauk, he returns home to the Isle of Rügen to search for the place where the willow might be, crossing worlds, - in dreams and in life -  in hopes of giving himself a happier ending than Bren Aldric Ermendrud ever got.





	1. Special Preview

**Author's Note:**

> Special Preview of the Next Installment of "Through the Seasons" which will begin posting in late Spring this year.  
> Special Thanks for the incredible art by the amazing Ruushes! http://ruushes.tumblr.com/ or @ruushes on twitter.

_A storm was coming, but the winds were still,_

_And in the wild woods of Broceliande,_

_Before an oak, so hollow, huge and old_

_It looked a tower of ivied masonwork,_

_At Merlin's feet the wily Vivien lay...._

 

Alfred Lord Tennyson  ~ _Merlin and Vivienne_

 

Caleb followed the footpath until it reached an impossibly tall, old Willow, whose branches creaked and groaned and swayed in the subtle warmth of the wind. Caleb stepped forward, gently pushing aside the curtain of green to sun-dappled shadow. The sight he revealed stunned him into stillness.

A Woodnymph lay back on the wide branch of the willow. It was bigger around than the Nymph’s slender form by far. The Nymph’s limbs hung lazily off the edge, the loose gossamer mantel draped over the Nymph’s body distractingly, catching on the roughness of the bark. Shifting, the Nymph’s head turned. The deceptively beautiful curling ram’s horns that grew from the Nymph’s temples were bedecked with _Jasmin_ and pure white _Azaleen_ to contrast with _Wisterie_ tinted skin and luxurious curls of deep plum. The pastel bells of the beautiful but poisonous _Fingerhüte_ dangled from the sharp points of the horns.

When they opened, Caleb could see that the Nymph’s eyes were red. They looked at him, not through him, as he anticipated and a smile spread like the sun on a new spring day, bringing light to the Nymph’s features.

Caleb couldn’t tear his gaze away.

A curious look graced the Nymph’s features as the red eyes took Caleb in, glancing him thoroughly up and down. A look like an ache, like incredible, unending sadness was being washed away just by his presence alone.

Caleb looked down at himself, confused. He still wore his old hiking boots, his tattered, torn jeans, the loose heather gray henley, and saw nothing special. Adjusting his glasses, Caleb licked his lips and took another step forward.

“Bren? Bren? Have you come for me?” The Nymph’s voice, lilting and lower than Caleb had anticipated, broke the unnatural silence of the glade. In the swaying shade of the willow, it seemed anything was possible. “I thought you were lost!”

“I...I am only Caleb. Caleb Widogast.”

“Oh. I’m Mollymauk. And this is my tree. It’s only… you look like-”

“Bren Aldric Ermendrud?”

The Nymph looked at him askance.

“I think I am here to save you, Mollymauk.”

 

 

~


	2. 1.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And it's begun! Thank you to all who enjoyed and followed me through the wintry last chapters of Cold Are All Thy Lights. Please enjoy a must less angsty, spring balm of a story. I will try to update every weekend, which shouldn't be too terribly hard, as I'm always at least a chapter ahead in the writing. 
> 
> As always, thank you to senor_sparklefingers for the beta and support. You're my dear, dear friend.
> 
> Disclaimer - though everywhere I describe in Germany, I have been and/or lived personally, it's been almost 6 years, so forgive my memory, for it is poor.

1. 

But he stood still a moment, held in thought. As one wakened suddenly from a beautiful dream, who struggles to recall it, and can recapture nothing but a dim sense of the beauty of it, the beauty! Till that, too, fades away in its turn, and the dreamer bitterly accepts the hard, cold waking and all its penalties.

~ Kenneth Grahame, _The Wind in the Willows_

The car came out of nowhere.

Caleb didn't even see it before it hit him, dead on. The front bumper clipped his back tire, spinning the bike out from beneath him, throwing him forward through the air some metres. He hit against a hundreds year old stone wall, his head cracking backwards harshly before he fell limply to the pavement.

The ringing he was hearing wasn't in his head, but rather the trilling of his bike's bell, still echoing from the impact, while the intact front wheel of his bike spun with a rapid whooshing and rhythmic click. As Caleb blinked away the dark blotchy spots of his vision, the world returned to blurred focus, impossibly harshly bright. His glasses were...somewhere, but he wasn't sure he'd have been able to see either way.

A firm pressure beat at his skull. Tentatively, Caleb tried to sit up, but gave in to the full body ache quickly, laying back. Softly, he swore and closed his eyes, his vision a deep red as the sun filtered through his eyelids.

Oldenburg, Deutschland, was a university city. A nice university city, but a crowded one. There were more bicycles per person than there ever were cars. In fact, it was easier and faster to get somewhere by bike than by car at all, simply because there were so many of them by comparison. There were so many bikes, the city had run out of public spaces to hitch them up. If you could get there just as easily by bike, the general campus agreement held, why use a car at all?

But that didn't change the fact that some still did. Needed to, in fact. Caleb wasn't about to shun a person for that. Not normally at least. Today…today, maybe Caleb was a bit biased. Considering how sorer he was, he didn’t think anyone would blame him.

Thoughts hazy, Caleb heard the car's engine shut off, heard nervous shouts and the slam of a car door, the pattering of feet. Eventually, a hand on his arm.

“Hallo? Können Sie mich hören?” a voice asked in his native language.

He could hear the voice, but forming words was difficult. Upon nodding his head - or what passed for an attempt to do so, at least - Caleb felt something warm on his skin, and in his hair.

“Gott, es tut mir leid!” Another voice.

“Hey, I found his phone!”

“We will get you help, okay?”

“Scheiße, he’s bleeding like a stuck pig!”

“Head wounds…”

“Gott, do you think he’ll be okay?”

“Call 112!”

Caleb blinked, slow, the words of the crowd gathering around him slowly merging into incomprehensible chatter as he strayed in and out of focus. By the time the ambulance arrived, the world around Caleb was black and he knew nothing.

 

_In the darkness, there was fire._

_He looked down at his hands and saw the fire swirling around them, but instead of terrifying him, Caleb only felt thrilled. He turned his hands in the air, rolling the flames over his fingers; they licked and kissed, but still his hands did not singe or burn._

_Elated, Bren laughed and smiled._

_“You’ve done it, Bren! That’s fantastic!”_

_“It’s incredible!”_

_“I can’t hardly belie-“_

 

Caleb gasped a breath in and opened his eyes to harsh fluorescents and the scent of antiseptic. And a very familiar, very grumpy, if blurry, face.

“Hallo, Beauregard,” he said as she handed him his glasses, scuffed, but intact.

“You could have gotten yourself killed, asshole!” Beau was seated cross-legged on the chair beside his bed. “It’s a six minute bike ride to the damned library and you nearly fucking _died_.”

“I ride my bike to lecture every day, Beau. So do you,” Caleb countered, easing himself to sitting.

“Yeah, but I don’t get clipped by a car and end up in the hospital with a massive concussion.”

Caleb only rolled his eyes, but winced for his trouble at the brightness of the lights and the strain of the movement. “Ja, and I suppose you would have fought the car, just like you fight your alarm clock every morning. Tell me, how many is it this year? Three? Four?”

Beau grumbled crossing her arms. “Whatever. Seriously though, you had me freaked. I haven’t called your parents yet, figured you could do that yourself.”

He nodded his head a bit. “Ja, ja, you are right.”

“Good,” she said. “Now I should probably call the doctor in here, before I get another nurse yelling about the _Amie_ that’s being belligerent in their waiting room. _Amie_ my ass. I’ve lived here for three years and I speak German just fine, right?” She asked, gesticulating wildly as she hopped up to her toes in a crouch on the chair. “Right?!”

Caleb smiled weakly. “Ja, you speak just fine, though you still have not managed the _ö_ perfectly.”

Beau scowled. “This is what I have to live with. This!” She threw her arms up in the air. “I’ll get the doctor, Caleb. Hang on a sec.”

She sprung off of the chair effortlessly, her blue silk bomber waving out behind her in her wake.

Letting himself settle back against the thin pillow, Caleb tried to put his thoughts in some semblance of an order. He remembered the bike. He didn’t really remember the car, just the impact. He remembered the wall best of all. And the bell. And the people talking, people congratulating him – no. No, that was wrong. People apologizing to him, comforting him, reassuring him. Yes. And then there had been the fire and – no. No fire.

He focused as hard as he was able, but his temple was throbbing, and the strangely familiar dream floated just out of reach. Starting at his temples, and then down through his beard, Caleb gingerly massaged over his face. It didn’t ache too much, but then, he didn’t even think to try probing at the bump that was surely at the back of his head.

Caleb didn’t need Beau or the doctor to tell him he had a massive concussion. It wasn’t his first, though he hadn’t had to deal with one since he was a child. Chuckling a little, Caleb recalled that the last time he’d had one; it was for a similar reason. He’d been riding his new bike – a birthday present – through the streets of his town. The right hand side of the road was parked up and another vehicle had been coming from the other direction. Though, on that occasion, he hadn’t actually been hit, only doing the hitting himself. And that car had been parked. Knocking his head on the pavement hadn’t been entirely pleasant either, especially considering he had so few clear memories from before that incident. He knew the perils of concussions.

But he’d been young anyways. Only just ten. It wasn’t as though there was a lot to remember before age nine. Beau insisted, when they talked about it the one time, that she had all her memories going back to age five. Caleb had scoffed at her and then laughed. After all, he was the one who had the eidetic memory between them. Beau was quick on the uptake and keen of mine, but Caleb’s memory was generally incomparable. More than once Beau had lamented it when it came to practicums.

They’d been living together since his first year of Uni. He’d arrived, planning to live alone, and ended up in a pub, drinking with the most crass, abrasive American he’d ever met. And, of all things, she was studying medieval illumination (and martial arts, which was a lot less of a surprise, all things considered). They’d got to talking – somehow, he still wasn’t sure how – and it ended up that she was looking for a housemate, and the rest was history.

Caleb was pulled from his ruminations when Beau returned with the doctor, who gave him the exact spiel he expected, plus a few key pieces of information regarding his bruised ribs. And then, Beau, who had wisely brought her little teal Opel when she got the call, took him home.

“Here,” she said, passing him his phone. “Found it safe and sound in your backback. I didn’t call your parents.” She shrugged, and he knew that it was because, in her own case, she would not have wanted him to call hers.

“Danke,” he took it, first turning down the brightness before scanning through for any missed messages, answering a few to his work and study groups before pulling up his parent’s contact information.

The tone rang and range and then-

_“Hallo? Caleb? Wie geht’s mein Schatz?”_

“Hallo Mutti. I’m doing alright. I was in a little accident with the bike, but I am fine, okay?”

_“Was?! Oh, Caleb! Schatz! Was hast du gemacht?!”_

“Nichts, Mutti, I’m fine. Nothing too bad happened. Tell Vati that I am alright, bitte? And I will call Veth, I do not want to make you be the one to handle that.” Caleb could feel Beau’s eyes burning into the side of his head as he lied through his teeth to his poor, dear mother.

_“Wann kannst du nächste zu Hause zurück gekommen?”_

“The next break is over a month from now, and I have shifts at the library on weekends until then, so I will not be able to make it home for a while, but I will see you for Ostern, okay?”

_“Okay! Lieb’ dich! Bis dann!”_

“Bis dann, Mutti. Lieb’ dich auch. Tschüß!”

_“Tchüß!”_

There was a long moment of silence, and briefly, Caleb thought he might just get away with it. Instead, he received a very, _very_ , light punch on the shoulder. “You’re getting off easy this time, because I’m bringing you home from the fucking hospital. Don’t test me.”

For a while, he considered ringing Veth. Every time he thought of her, it brought a fond smile to his face. Ever since leaving, he’d missed her terribly. They’d been friends since he was very little and she and her family moved from Strasbourg, into the house just down the lane from him. She was tall for her age and teased relentlessly by some of the others for her thick French accent, though she spoke perfect German. Instantly, and somewhat unexpectedly, they loved one another from the first.

She collected her buttons and rocks. He collected books. They understood one another in ways no one else ever had.

His thumb hovered over the call button, but instead he settled instead for shooting her a quick text,  explaining vaguely what had happened and that he wasn’t really supposed to use his phone at all.

 

_Veth Brenatto (Nottchen): AUGGH CALEB Do you need me to visit? Are you okay?!_

_Me: Nein. Lieb dich._

_Veth Brenatto (Nottchen): Love you too, Caycay. Be safe._

 

“Veth?”

“Ja.”

They didn’t talk much more along the way, which suited Caleb just fine; his head was still ringing as it was, and Beau had been informed equally thoroughly to his medical care. Home was a converted farm house off the beautifully wooded Drögen-Hasen-Weg, not but a few minutes from the university. The family who owned the place had turned their additional building into a series of small apartment like spaces. Beau had already been living there when Caleb met her, and they’d wasted no time moving in. She was surprisingly neat and minimalistic, which had suited Caleb just fine. In the afternoon sun, as they drove up the loose gravel drive, poured into the open courtyard lot. The farm house was a lovely red brick, and their own building a nice, white stucco with a red clay shingled roof.

A few chickens clucked and tutted as they parked the car across from the dilapidated wood barn. Usually, when the animals stirred, so did the people, but no one came out to greet them as Beau fumbled with the keys to unlock the door.

The door opened up into the kitchen and dining space. With walls a blinding white where they weren’t covered with dried herbs and hanging clusters of fresh vegetables, and floor to ceiling bookshelves, the wood stained a soft maple tan, it always managed to feel like home. The room smelled of books and turmeric and Caleb felt his nerves settle almost instantly. Beau tossed the keys on the counter and went to the little stove.

“I’m going to heat some water for tea,” she said. “Can you make the stairs, or do you want my room?”

“I will make the stairs, Beauregard. I am only a little sore, but not dizzy. Danke schön.”

“Sure thing, Caleb. Whatever you need, man.”

As the comfortable and subtle clatter of the kitchen settled into the background, Caleb took the open stair, careful especially to watch his footing so he did not slip or catch a toe on the next step up. At the top of the steps, on the left wall, they’d hung a mirror for lack of anything better to put there. As Caleb stopped, bracing himself with the railing, he glanced at the mirror.

What he saw looking back at him wasn’t what he expected.

It was obviously himself, though he nearly didn’t recognize his own face, expression enigmatic, features shadowed. Caleb leaned in closer and the image moved with him; he raised his hands to touch his chest and felt only the henley beneath his hands, but the mirror showed a structured coat of heather blue and a beautiful silk scarf to match. Even his hair, which he’d opted to wear down that day, was mostly up in a loose messy bun, and curlier than usual.

Tentatively, Caleb reached out a hand to the image in the mirror. Just as his finger tips met cool glass, Caleb closed his eyes.

 

 _Dark wood and the scent of incense. Breeze through an open window. Rustling papers. Turning inwards, he caught sight of the cat on the bookshelf, rubbing his head furiously at a protruding leather binding. With a_ mrrmp _, the cat hopped down and onto his shoulder, deftly, tails curling around his ear as Frumpkin settled himself around his neck, a second scarf._

_He pulled the book from the shelf and walked with it to the table, upon which several white pillar candles of hexagonal beeswax were lit, burning slowly and surely. With a gust of wind, one snuffed out and he raised his hand to the candle. It relit instantaneously, a warm glow emanating from the center of his palm._

_He sat down in the chair, laying the book next to a stack of parchments, creased and fluttering under the inkwell sat atop them._

_‘Herr Zauberer Ermendrud,_

_I have reviewed the information you sent me. Such a thing is not an impossible feat to-‘_

Caleb blinked.

In the mirror, he was himself, and no one else. In the mirror, there was only his reflection.

Startled, shaken, he gripped the railing tightly.

“Caleb?!” Beau called. “Did you hear me? Are you alright up there?”

“Ja, I am fine,” he said absently, not half loud enough even for Beau to hear, staring enraptured and dazed at the place where Herr Zauberer Ermendrud’s reflection had once been.

It was too real.

He shivered and continued up the stair to his bedroom, passing by the large skylight without stopping to gaze out and see the sheep and goats like usual, too distracted to even think to look.

Something was wrong.

Or, not _wrong_ , but not normal either.

“It is the concussion,” Caleb whispered to himself. “It is only the concussion.”

And yet, he could still almost smell the incense in the air.

Inside his room, Caleb found Frumpkin curled in a patch of sunlight in the center of his bed. Subtly, he lifted his little orange head and Caleb lay down next to him, hand in the perfect spot to scritch behind his ear.

“I do not know what is happening to me, Frumpkin,” Caleb said as he let one arm curl gingerly over his sore ribs. Frumpkin’s fur was velvet soft under his fingers. “You were there too, in the mirror. I am probably projecting on myself, you know. It would be cool to be a wizard in a tower, with all my books and everything.” He shifted so he could see Frumpkin’s big amber eyes, blinking lazy love back at him. “You and I have been together a long time, my friend. And I know you are getting old.”

Frumpkin’s tail twitched.

“Ja, ja, I know. But it is true and we must accept that sometime, eh? But I wonder, kätzchen, do you think I am going crazy? Do you think I have read too much of the Silmarillion recently? I did not have pointed ears though, in my vision, I do not think, and if that was the cause, I suppose I would much rather wish to be elvish than human, you know? Or something like that. Do you suppose, if we two went to the mirror together, you would also see what I saw?” Caleb asked, even though in the back of his mind, the rational thoughts were prodding insistently.

From below, he heard Beau’s music start up, the soft, even rhythms of Peter Fox for PA Sports filtered through the speakers, not loud enough to aggravate him.

“Should we go look, do you think?” He looked back to Frumpkin. “Don’t give me that loo-“

 

_“-you like her, my Bren?” his mother asked. “Your father said you were wishing for a cat and I have been hoping for something to chase away the rodents from the barn.”_

_“Oh, Mutti!” he cried, hugging the tawny cat close. “She is beautiful!”_

Caleb lay very still and did not move, staring at the real Frumpkin at his side. Eventually, the cat grew tired of being patient and unwound himself from his tight, comfortable ball and padded up to Caleb, nuzzling at his face. Slowly, Caleb lifted a hand and stroked Frumpkin’s back until he settled down beside his human’s head, purring fiercely.

A soft knock sounded at the door.

“Caleb? It’s me, you want that tea?” A pause. “I hope you’re not asleep, you’re not supposed to go to sleep like this.”

“I am not asleep, Beauregard,” he replied, though he was starting to think that he’d never actually woken up from his accident. Perhaps he was dead. Perhaps he was in a coma. Something.

The door creaked open and Beau stepped in, holding two steaming mugs. She set one on Caleb’s beside table and the other she kept for herself, pulling up his wooden chair from it’s place at his rolltop desk. “You okay? I mean, besides the obvious?” Beau’s discerning look captured him and he knew she saw him hesitate. “Caleb, if something’s wrong-“

“I am…perhaps this is a worse concussion than I thought. Or…something else. I don’t know. It feels…It feels like something else.” He tried to look past her, but her blue eyes were as fixating as his own. A part of him resented her for forcing him to understand how his parents must have felt when he was a child and demanded to know things they were keeping from him. Like birthday presents. And vacations. And if Sankt Nikolaus was really going to come in the night like the other children from school suggested.

Like a pinned butterfly on the board – literally, for her barely felt capable of rolling himself in that moment – Caleb sighed.

“Caleb. Don’t do that. Don’t bottle shit up. Jesus, I don’t know where you get that. You told me that you and your parents are, all like, loving and super open with each other and shit. _I’m_ the one who’s supposed to be reticent here,” she complained, taking a sip of tea. “I left my parents behind in another freaking _country_ I get along with them so well. So, what’s eating Caleb Widogast? Huh?”

Caleb made a face at her, but she raised a pierce brow superciliously and handed him his own mug of tea, which had finally cooled to a remotely ingestible temperature.

“You will think I am crazy. You will take me back to the hospital.”

Beau narrowed her eyes. “Try me.”

Caleb sighed again, exaggerating the movement with his head before leaning up from his pillows to take a sip of tea, a nice, soothing chamomile mix. “I saw myself in the mirror.”

“Okay…?”

“And yet, it was not me. It was someone who looked like me.” He looked up from his tea. Beau was sitting very straight in the chair, which was, quite frankly, atypical, and watching him like a hawk.

“Is this like, some weird, personality shift bullshit? Because I was watching this thing on tv the other day about this study and-“

“No, Beauregard. It is not like that. I touched my own chest and it was my henley, but in the glass I saw different clothes. And a different room.” He didn’t mention how he had fallen into the…vision? Memory? He wasn’t really sure.

“Okay, so you’re seeing shit. That’s normal. That’s just basic concussion stuff, right? I mean, this is a pretty bad one so – fuck! I’m supposed to darken the room for you.” She set the mug down and fairly leapt from her perch in the chair, pulling the blinds around the room.

“Beauregard-“ he tried to call her off, but gave in almost immediately as the throbbing in his head eased. “Danke,” he relented.

“Sorry, man,” she said, sitting back down. “No but, seriously, if it’s not the concussion, what is it? Hyperactive imagination? I mean, you’re you. That’s not all that shocking, right, imagining yourself _Through the Looking Glass_ , right?”

He glared at her in the dark, and they both knew it, even though their features were obscured. Frumpkin nuzzled his ear. “I have not been reading Carroll’s work lately. Beau…Beau, it felt so _real_. So surreal…”

“You’re right,” she stated with a firm determination. “I’m putting you back in that car and driving you back to the doctor.

“Nein! Please, do not.”

“Give me one good reason.”

She was looking out for him, and Caleb knew it. Beau was always looking out for him, and he couldn’t blame her for it. Somehow, he seemed to frequently need looking after. For as excellent as his memory and sense of time were, he frequently grew too wrapped up in what he was working on to ‘function’, as Beau put it. She forced him to relax, to take time to eat really good food, to go on walks. University had changed his habits more than he liked to admit. At one time, he had spent more time hiking through Nationalpark Jasmund than he had reading, which may have been some sort of record, considering just how many books he read a week in his youth. And now, after taking such a substantial knock on the head, he wouldn’t be reading much of anything, much less working on his classwork, or cataloguing any of his load for the library, like he was supposed to. Vaguely, he wondered if Beauregard had called him in sick or not.

“Because the doctor will tell us both that it is the concussion and repeat the same instructions we received not an hour ago.”

In the darkness, Caleb heard her hum a little to herself.

“Fair enough. You want me to like, read you something? I can get that headlamp. What’ve you been working on lately anyways?” She stood up, making for the doorway.

“Tennyson, lately. I have a book of Medieval Verse on the desk.”

“Cool. That’s like, the romantic crap, right? Who wrote the one about the hart? You know, the female deer?”

“Petrarch or Wyatt?”

“The one where he uses a different word for deer.”

“Wyatt then, thought they are essentially the same poem.” He didn’t get into the particulars. That wasn’t Beau’s precise area of interest. “It is in that book.”

“ ‘kay. I’ll be right back. You just, chill with Frumpkin, okay? And don’t go through the mirror or anything. I think your Mom would kill me if anything happened to you. And if she didn’t get to me, Veth would.”

Ah, and there was another bear he wasn’t ready to poke. Veth would surely he all over him the minute he revealed he’d been hurt worse than he’d made out. She’d always had a tendency to mother him, even though he was the older of the two by almost a full year and Caleb fully anticipated that Veth would, upon hearing that he’d gotten hurt, walk out the door of her house promptly with only a very loud, very forceful declaration of ‘I LOVE YOU!’ to alert her husband, Yeza, that she’d done so.

Beau returned, more careful than usual to close the door without slamming it.

“Okay,” she said, clicking the little headlamp on. “Let’s read this shit.”

Somehow, Caleb managed to refrain from laughing.

After clearing her throat, Beau began.

 

_Whoso list to hunt, I know where is an hind,_

_But as for me, hélas, I may no more._

_The vain travail hath wearied me so sore,_

_I am of them that farthest cometh behind._

_Yet may I by no means my wearied mind_

_Draw from the deer, but as she fleeth afore_

_Fainting I follow. I leave off therefore,_

_Sithens in a net I seek to hold the wind._

_Who list her hunt, I put him out of doubt,_

_As well as I may spend his time in vain._

_And graven with diamonds in letters plain_

_There is written, her fair neck round about:_

_Noli me tangere, for Caesar's I am,_

_And wild for to hold, though I seem tame._

“Some dude really wrote this shit, hey? I mean, it’s what, about Queen Anne or something, right? About how he can't get with her because she's the Queen?”

“Ja, that is what is supposed, at least.”

“Do you ever think about that, Caleb?” Beau asked. “This whole courtly love thing? You think it was all it was cracked up to be? Star-crossed lovers? Padmé and Anakin. Buttercup and Westley. Kirk and Spock. Thelma and Louise.”

“Only one of those is really Star-crossed, Beauregard,” he replied, avoiding her question.

“Yeah, whatever. Still, do you think that's in the cards for you? Some grand love?”

Surprisingly, the words stung in a way he'd never expected.

“I do not know,” he settled for. “What about you?”

“If I'm gonna find her, I bet you ten to one it'll be at kickboxing.”

“And I will bet you ten to one that it's not.”

“Pfft,” Beau scoffed. “Have you _seen_ my abs?”

“Ja, Beau. Every day.”

Beau sobered. “I used to wonder. She's out there somewhere, I guess.”

Caleb's heart throbbed again painfully, like it was pulling away from his chest, and he took a sip of tea to mask his reaction and his own confusion in reaction to it. He sighed. “I will not find love locked away in my bedroom like Rapunzel, Beau, so perhaps you can read some more for a while? And then we shall both have our fair share for a while.”

Downlit by the glow of the headlamp, Beau's genuine smile looked eerie. “Alright Caleb. It's a deal.”

 

The visions did not stop and he had nothing to distract him, as he wasn’t yet cleared to return to classes, which was frustrating on more than one level. Caleb was almost certain that they were memories now, and not just figments of his imagination. Memories of some far bygone life. Either that, or he was going _spectacularly_ mad; it felt far too real for that. Some things were too awful to have been fabricated by his imagination. Too terrible. Too real.

They ranged from dark, dank cells, where the other him tormented prisoners as a youth, flames in his hands, to the much less terrible school lessons, even a formal dance with a girl called Astrid, and kissing a boy named Eodwulf, to viewing a public execution as a small child, his father's hands on his shoulders. And in every memory, he was called Bren Aldric Ermendrud.

It was beginning to shake him, never knowing what he would experience next, or when. After a week of dream memories, of pausing midstep as they overwhelmed him and even once, almost falling backwards down the stairs, if not for Beau behind him to catch him, Caleb wasn't the only one starting to grow concerned.

“You're going back to the doctor, and after that, I'm calling your parents again if you don’t.” Beau insisted. Caleb knew better than to fight her.

A few more scans told him, his doctor, and Beau alike that his concussion was healing but not perfect, and that he was cleared to return to classes. Beau scowled. She scowled all the way from the hospital to the car. She may have even scowled the whole way home, but Caleb couldn't be sure, because the moment he sat down, he was no longer in the car at all.

 

The last few memories had been scattered around, different people, different places, different ages. This place too, was new. A study.

_Facing him was a rounded wall of windows. Instinctually, he knew that behind him, the walls were of stone and covered in books. Hundreds and hundreds of books. Caleb’s fingers itches to pick them up, to traverse the span of their pages with a touch, a look, an hour or a minute. Sunlight streamed into the room. He was seated in a chair on the opposite side of a desk, covered in all manner of bauble and nick knacks, feather quills and inkpots._

_Then, a man sat down before him. Caleb had seen the man in the visions before, and recognized that he was mostly likely rather young in this memory, for the man had been previously identified as his teacher._

_“Guten Tag, Herr Ikithon.”_

_“Guten Tag, Bren. We are going to begin today with a furtherance of the experiment. I will collect the supplies, if you would ready yourself, please?”_

_“Of course, Herr Ikithon.” Caleb rolled up his sleeve, exposing his bare skin._

_All along it were slim cuts, some healed over into scars, others that looked freshly scabbed. They stung wildly, but worst of all were the few that looked raised, as though something was imbedded under the skin. Those itched more than anything else._

_Ikithon returned, holding a tray, which he set next to Caleb, who looked down. A small knife lay there, next to a tweezers and a whole array of small, sparkling gem shards._

_“Now, Bren, let’s begin.”_

The car came to a jerking stop and Caleb felt himself flung a little ways forward against the seat belt.

“-kay dude? You look really pale. Caleb? Caleb?” Beau was saying, her hand resting over his forearm. The same forearm… “Dude, you look like you’re going to hurl. Fuck.” Quickly, she unbuckled herself and got out of the car, darting around to pull open Caleb’s door, unbuckling him and tugging him gingerly out. He sank to his knees, leaned over, and threw up. “Jesus, Caleb...you’re really scaring me,” Beau’s voice was shaking as she knelt beside him, holding his hair out of his face. “I don’t know what to do, man. Seriously, please, I’m grasping at straws here. I don’t want anything to happen to you, Caleb.”

When it was over, Caleb leaned back, resting on his heels and then pushed himself backwards into the car, laying his head against the door.

“Just a bad memory. That is all. I’m okay now. I don’t think…I don’t think that will happen again,” he said, truthfully, so that Beau could tell. “I want to go home now, please.”

“Okay, Caleb. If you’re sure.”

“I’m sure.”

“Do you – you know what, nevermind. Yep. Let’s just go home. I’ll warm us up that curry from this weekend and then you’re going to sleep. Got it?”

“Sounds good. Sounds really good. Danke, Beau, for everything.”

“Of course, Caleb, you’re like…you know you’re like family to me, right?”

Caleb felt an ache in his heart at the tentative quality of Beau’s voice. “Ja, I do. And you are like a sister to me. You are. I love you very much, Beau.”

He heard a sniff, but kept looking forward, knowing that she’d prefer it that way.

“Yeah, well you’re like the asshole brother I never wanted, so, yeah. I, uh, I love you too.”

They piled back into the car and Beau drove off at a slower pace, occasionally throwing Caleb glances. Dinner was a quiet affair, considering that it was Beau he was eating with, and then, after making sure he made it up the stairs okay, Beau went back downstairs and Caleb lay down to sleep.

And in sleep, he dreamed.

_Bren was older again, the way he’d been in the first vision, in the mirror, garbed in blue, the letter on his desk._

_‘Herr Zauberer Ermendrud,_

_I have reviewed the information you sent me. Such a thing is not an impossible feat to accomplish. I have read once before of mystics who imprisoned mages, but never of mages who imprisoned mystics. Such a creature may be more than what you originally imagined it to be. Where is this tree of which you’ve written?_

_Perhaps if I could examine it, I may be better able to assist you. I should very much like to see this creature, and discover what it is capable of, were it to be freed from its imprisonment._

_Yours faithfully,_

_Madame_

 

_Swallowing, Bren looked at the letter one last time before lifting the parchment to the candle flame. Immediately, it caught fire, blackening and shriveling into charred dust._

_“They can never know where Mollymauk is, Frumpkin. I will protect him, even if it means I cannot free him.”_

_Then, he was on horseback, rust burnt curls streaming out behind him, riding hard, a city whose name Caleb did not know, but the bitterness for which he felt in his bones, transcending time and space and memory. Away, away, for days he traveled until he came to a forest of large, imposing trees. He rode for a long time, maybe days more, carefully picking his way through the briar and bramble and underbrush, until he was so deep into the woods that he felt sure that the world beyond it did not exist at all. And then, only then, did he slow and stop, tying off the horse to a limb._

_Patting the horse on the neck, Bren stalked off between the trees. Some time passed before he came to a clearing. The light there was of a different quality. Brighter, leaving the world around it saturated almost unnaturally. At the center was a magnificent willow. Though he’d seen other willows, especially growing along the stream that wound its way through the woods, this one was larger by far. Dappled light streamed unrestricted through the trees, beaming down ethereally into the hidden glade._

_Bren made for the tree, pushing aside the long, swaying branches and heard the sweet music of birds chirping, the unmistakable scent of Jasmine in the air and saw –_

 

Caleb’s eyes opened, to Frumpkin’s paw squishing his nose, meowing plaintively. Quickly, feeling the dream-memory slip away with every passing second, he shut his eyes tight, hoping for that scent to return, but it was gone. Behind his eyes, there was only a black buzz. With a sigh, Caleb lifted the cat off of him and rolled to look at the clock, which read seven.

“It is too early for this, Frumpkin,” he groaned, stroking his cat from nose to tail. “That memory…it is the most pervasive. Perhaps… perhaps next time I will see what this mystic…who this Mollymauk is? It must be important, ja? Do you think? That I have come back to this dream twice now? The others, they are scattered all over, throughout Bren’s life, but this must be something special. He – I – na ja, it is he. He seemed very concerned, very protective.”

Frumpkin purred, butting his head into Caleb’s side, making him flinch. “Hey, you know I am ticklish there,” he said, shooing the cat off the bed. “Go bother Beauregard.”

Caleb swung his legs over the edge of the bed, looking about the room, which was still overly dark. From behind the pulled shade, bright, golden light glowed and he found that his head did not ache simply from thinking about looking into the bright sun. He went to the window then and rolled up the shade. The window was inset into the ceiling, sticking out straight from its diagonal lines as the room was settled beneath the vaulted roof. The space beyond was green from all of the early spring rains. Mid-April rarely looked so beautiful, but Caleb knew that, just as it had been the day before, the vision through the glass pane was deceptive, and the wind would be chilly this early in the morning. Out farther in the pasture, two goats wrangled horns, bounding jarringly as they tried to buck apart.  

With a smile, Caleb turned away; classes would be starting in a few hours and it was best to prepare while he could, now that he was allowed to return. He’d done what he was able in the meantime, working in small spurts, the alarm Beau made him set going off to remind him to break from the screen, or the text, whichever it happened to be.

Even before bothering to dress, he packed his bags, rustling through papers and books, sliding over his slim laptop and the folio of notebooks that he kept, as well as his nametag for the reference library. He held it aloft, the little metal tag that proclaimed his name glinting in the refreshing morning glow. All the while he’d been contained at home, he’d missed the aisles and aisles of books and maps and texts, the incredible smell of some of the back rooms which contained everything from sheet music to old bibles, vanillin and spice, the decay of yellowing pages and old glue.

Fondly, he recalled Veth asking him why he hadn’t sought to become a bookbinder – there was enough business for that sort of thing in many of the countries of Europe still, though Beau had looked at him wild eyed when he’d mentioned it once, off hand.

Satisfied that he had all he would need, Caleb turned hesitantly towards the mirror. A certain emotion welling within him that he was hesitant to call excitement. Somehow, it bridged the span between terror and hope, a certain elation of the blood that left him wanting to sing. It was peculiar to say the least, and it chased about him with that same scent, of _Jasmin_ , heady and enticing.

What would he see, if he dared look?

Himself?

Or Bren?

Caleb looked. In the mirror, all he saw with himself. The strangely bitter sting of disappointment coloured the rest of his mood, and a cloud moved in, taking with it the sun.

It was in that mood that he went down to breakfast, where Beau waited, a bowl of granola balanced on one thigh as she crouched in the seat of her chair, spoon hanging from her mouth, one hand death gripped around the remote for the television. Caleb rolled his eyes and went to counter for an egg. The sound from the tv paused and his mouth twitched in an almost grin.

“You got a problem, Widogast?”

“Nein, Lionett, if you feel there is a problem, then that is your own and not mine.” He moved the cast iron skillet to a smaller burner on the stovetop. “Do you want an egg this morning, or are you going to suffice on your granola alone, du Amie?”

“Your German cereal tastes like cardboard and lies. And you don’t eat peanut butter. Weirdos. No, thanks. I’m trying to catch up on _Dark_ ; the second season just wrapped production and I decided to rewatch it now that my German’s better. Anything beats watching that shitty ass dubbing. And this time,” she turned in her seat, jabbing the spoon in his direction. “I don’t even need the subtitles! How about that?”

“I am very pleased for you, Beau.”

“How’re you feeling today? I’m still driving you to school, you realize that’s non-negotiable, right?”

“Ja.” She’d made that more than clear, and while a little part of Caleb was frustrated by his lack of independence, he knew it was for the best. “Thank you, by the way.”

“Did you call Veth yet? I know you said you were going to. She’s your best friend.”

“Ja. We have been texting. I did not say anything about my…about the dreams. Just about the concussion and going back to classes and things.”

“Right.” Beau said, nodding a little too encouragingly. “Your dreams. Those uh…clearing up today?”

“What? Hmm? Oh…” Caleb sliced a little butter into the pan and swiveled it around. “Ja, nothing today.”

“Okay. Well, you should still call her. You know. Because that’s what friends do.”

“I will.” Caleb said, cracking the egg on the edge of the pan. “I do not look forward to all of the loud questioning that I will surely be subject to, but I have missed her quite a lot this year.”

“How’s uhhh…” Beau trailed off, gesticulating with the spoon. “Uhh, uhhh, fuck. I don’t remember.”

“Yeza?” Caleb filled in. “He is well. They are both doing well. They went to _Italien_ this winter to visit his family. Veth was very happy about that. She likes it warm, and they have very nice beaches. She was telling me a while back that they still haven’t gone on honeymoon, and normally, you know, she said she’d want to go to Mallorca, but they’ve been talking about doing Cornwall, even though it’s rainy there…Ich weiβ nicht. They don’t want to go too far away, because the business is just taking off, you know? And that’s why I don’t…I don’t want her to think that it is worse than it is.” He frowned at his egg as he pushed the jelled whites from over the yolk. “I don’t want her to feel like she needs to stop everything to take care of me. She did that so much and I just want her to do what she needs to do for herself.”

He flung a look over his shoulder; Beau only shrugged around a mouthful of granola.

“Some help you are, Lionett.”

“W’re’er W’d’g’st.”

“Chew your food.”

“M’ke mer.”

He shook his head, bemused.

Twenty minutes later, Beau's episode of _Dark_ over, bags packed, and Beau's final warning imparted, Caleb was just entering his lecture hall for the first time in over a week. He brushed past one of the younger engineering professors, white haired and glasses wearing, and into the stairwell.

He ducked into class just moments before it started, much to his chagrin; he'd been hoping to speak to the professor before class about the work he'd missed, but there was always after. Caleb took his seat.

For a while, everything was fine. He took notes and answered questions, asked a few of his own and then, he blinked, and when he opened his eyes again, the world around him had disappeared. Back in Bren’s study, he was hunkered over a small journal, writing in a language Caleb couldn’t read, and yet, it was a language he understood.

_‘Madame,_

_Thank you for allowing me this manner of continued correspondence. As in the past, your discretion is greatly valued. I have spoken with the imprisoned one. He implies that he has been there for many, many years, far longer than he can even recall. Indeed, he tells me that the name he gave me he chose arbitrarily, as he no longer recalls what he was once called. I have made overtures as to the possibility of freeing him, and, as I suspected, he is more than willing to cooperate. There is no greater desire, I should think, for a nymph of such talents to wish himself freed from the confines of the tree._

_At this juncture, I have only begun the basics of research. Tell me, have you ever heard of an instance in which a mage bound a mystic to a tree? Perhaps I may be able to find his history and thereby a way to release him without issue._

_Then, there is always the matter of what to do afterwards. I do so wish to speak with him more, to learn what I am able from such a…_ knowledgeable _creature. Though he is not directly of the fae, it seems his tree is somewhat connected to their realm and as such, it may be some conniving of their magic that binds him._

_I have requested several books formally under the assumption that they deal with a spell that I am currently creating for the Assembly. It stands to reason that Ikithon will not be pleased that I continue to seek a different sort of work than he pushed me towards in my youth, however, Archmage Hass has been particularly supportive, even protective of my new work, much to Ikithon’s chagrin._

_It is no matter. They have their petty wars and I have my research._

_Whatever information you can find, please, send my way, as unassumingly as possible. It is reasonable to believe, at this point especially, since I began my…shall we call them sabbaticals? We shall. – Since I began my sabbaticals, he has been attempting to follow me, and thus, is likely to intercept my mail._

_Please do not set through the usual channels._

_Additionally, it would be best if we develop an additional level to the code._

_Madame, you are helping to bring forth vast wealths of knowledge, and perhaps we shall gain a few favours in the process._

_My gratitude is forever yours,_

_Mage_

_Bren looked the letter over, folded it very precisely and then sealed it, without any particular stamp to set the wax. With a snap of his fingers, a tawny falcon appeared on his shoulder, with striking markings the likes of which Caleb had never before seen._

_“You know where to take this, Frumpkin. Time is starting to become of the essence. When you have delivered it, await the response and then return to me. Now go.”_

_Without hesitation, the falcon – Frumpkin, apparently – took off and flew out the round, open window in the stone wall behind him._

_A knock resounded in the same moment._

_“Come in!” Bren called._

_The door opened. The first thing Caleb saw was white and gold robed and then a long, yellowing beard._

_“Ah, welcome, Herr Ikithon.”_

_“Bren my boy, I was just – “_

“-asking you a question, Caleb.”

“Hmm?” Caleb looked up, dazed, blinking rapidly. The professor, the class, the people beside him. All were staring. “Oh, I, ah…”

“Caleb, perhaps it’s better if you email me later and get what you miss.” His professor said, concern etching his voice. “Do you need someone to come get you?”

“Nein…nein,” Caleb stammered. “I will be all right. Danke, Professor Geddmore, I think, I will be going now. Entschsuldigung, es-es tut mir leid.”

“Caleb?!” Professor Geddmore called after him, but he was already rushing from the lecture hall, things gathered haphazardly in his arms. “Caleb!”

He didn’t stop, nearly falling on the steps, until he was out of the building and beneath the tree just outside the commons. With little adieu, he dropped everything he had with him and sank to the ground, back against the tree, breathing hard.

“I cannot do this. I cannot do this. _Fuck_ , I cannot do this. I cannot go to class like this… I cannot…”Caleb made an angry noise. “It has to be important. All of this _must_ be important. This is happening for a reason. And you just need some time to figure out what and why. This is research. You are good at research.” Thunking his head back against the tree trunk, he let his breathing slow and calm before reaching for his bag and pulling out his phone.

There was little more than a split second’s hesitation before he pressed ‘call’.

_“Hallo?”_

“Hallo, Vati, Hier ist Caleb.”

 _“Ah! Caleb! Wie geht’s?”_ The worry in his father’s voice was palpable, even over the phone.

“Nichts gut. Vati, ich möchte zu hause zurück gekommen. I…I lied to Mutti. About what happened. I thought I would be okay. But…ah…Vati, I hit my head pretty hard. And there were…unexpected consequences. I need to come home. I don’t think…” _Now or never, Widogast._ “I don’t think I can stay. I don’t think I can go to school anymore, here. Things are supposed to be getting better, the doctors said I could come back to school and work, but…”

_“Then come home, Caleb. You have to do what you must. You can always go back, you know that. Your health…Your mother will be upset if you do not. And Veth, too, of course.”_

“Ja, ich weiß. I did not want to scare anyone, but now…it is not bad, I am not falling over or anything, but…sometimes… I just…go away…uh…ja. I go away. In my head.” He winced. It sounded terrible no matter how he said it.

_“I will come get you. Call Beauregard. You shouldn’t bike-“_

“She drove me here. I am ‘under strict orders’, so you do not have to worry. I will call her. I am sitting under a tree. Really, I just…I am making this out worse than it is. It is just some spells, but I really…I want to be home. With you and Mutti and Veth. I don’t want to bother Beauregard any more than I already have, and I am sure that I can communicate with my professors, and I can get things done from home…send them in digitally. Or take a break. I can come back anytime, Vati.”

_“But you don’t have to. We don’t expect-“_

“I will, Vati. I will.”

_“Alright. I will tell your mother and I will save her the trouble of telling Veth and then I will come get you.”_

“Danke, Vati. Grüßes lieb.”

_“Lieb’ dich auch. Bis dann.”_

“Bis dann.”

The moment he hung up on his father, he texted Beau. One confirmed reply later, Caleb dug out a notebook and a pen and started writing. If he was going to get to the bottom of the memory-dreams, he’s need to start somewhere.

At the beginning.

“ _In the darkness, there was fire…”_


	3. 2.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Forgive me, it's been way too long since I was there, but I'm trying to remember what things looked like. Meals, however, I'd be hard press to forget.

2.

“That which is dreamed can never be lost, can never be undreamed.”

~ Neil Gaiman, _The Wake_

Caleb’s eyes were closed as the movement of the car and the soft buzz of his father’s Reinhard Mey cd gently lulled him. The five and a half hour drive wasn’t one Caleb made terribly often, but he was only glad that it was his father driving and not him. Traffic was about the usual, worse as they circumvented Hamburg, but the rest of the way was a matter of chance, and not too terrible. In his head, Caleb estimated that they’d make it back home, with a short break or two and some dinner, by twenty-one hundred hours.

Leofric Karl Widogast, with his salt and pepper hair, pulled back into a ponytail much of the time, and bright sparkling blue eyes, around which many lines from smiling were arrayed, had always been quite the force to be reckoned with – just as he’d said, he’d started for Oldenburg almost immediately after hanging up and hadn’t wasted any time dallying. The autobahn certainly made for speedy driving (Caleb recalled Yeza mentioning that fact several times after he moved up from Italien, wide eyed and nervous for all Veth’s near erratic driving capabilities. Sometimes, he’d lean in to Caleb and mutter about French temperaments.), and Leofric was not your typical fifty-seven year old Sunday driver sort. He liked his cars, he liked his races and he cared about his only son more than almost anything save his son’s mother. So, Caleb wasn’t all that surprised when Leofric had arrived shortly after noon and taken Caleb into his embrace. Where normally it was his mother’s soft arms surrounding him, a hug from his father was special if only for its more uncommon nature. He liked to clap hands on shoulders, and pull people into his side, but a full on hug was different.

In the still rush of the car, Caleb relished the memory of that hold as he patted Frumpkin in his lap (who had always been a good road cat) of how safe it now felt to have his father nearby, occasionally glancing over and smiling nervously.

“Alles gut, Caleb?”

“Hmm?”

“You don’t need me to pull over, do you?”

Caleb opened his eyes. The world was dark and the surroundings only starting to look genuinely familiar.

“Nein, Vati, I’m okay. Really.” He hadn’t had any more visions yet that day, but there was a strange eagerness in his stomach that made him uncertain if that was a good thing, or a bad thing. Maybe I’m being too hasty, I don’t know.”

“You are intending to continue the work, right?” His father asked, eyes not straying from the road.

“Ja. I am. Beau took me around and I spoke with all of my professors and I have everything organized. I will have to rely on interlibrary loan though, or digitized copies,” Caleb explained. “I am not excited for that, but I don’t have any other options.”

“But you will be able to try, ja?” Leofric asked, shifting down a gear.

“Ja.”

“Then it is okay not to be certain. And if you can go back, you will go back. And Beauregard will understand. You are paid up for this quarter on your rent?”

“Ja, Vati. I feel bad leaving her, but I…” He trailed off, not wanting to lie more than he had to, but not wanting to speak the truth either. “She was getting afraid for me, and that isn’t her job, you know? I do not want to burden anyone.”

“You’re never a burden, my Caleb.” His father put out his hand quickly, grasping one of Caleb’s in his strong, calloused grip. “Never.”

“Then why do I feel like one?”

Leofric sighed heavily, drawing his hand back to shift again, and Caleb returned to petting Frumpkin. “No one likes to be unwell and dependent, Caleb. Remember when I snapped my ankle, falling off the dock?”

“Ja.” Caleb reminisced. “We were fishing that day. I caught a big one. My first.”

The gruff chuckle set a bright feeling a pride welling Caleb’s chest. “Ja, you did. And then, when I was trying to reel mine in, it pulled me and I toppled, by not before I’d caught my toe between the boards and _snap_ went my ankle. Remember?”

“And I had to go get Mutti, but Veth was already shrieking that you were going to drown, so she was already halfway there by the time I got back up the hill.”

“She’s a good one to have around, your Veth.” Leofric turned a moment to smile, and Caleb caught a gleam of it even in the dark. “I was laid up for weeks. And I hated every moment because I felt like a burden, but you and your Momma took such good care of me. I am your father. It is never a trouble to take care of you.”

Caleb hung his head, biting his lip.

“I mean that, Caleb. Now, I know that – for whatever crazy-bird reason – you are thinking that I don’t, but I do. You know how much your mother and I wished for you, how excited we were when we finally held you! You were out miracle, Caleb. After everything-“

“I believe you, Vati.” Caleb said, cutting him off. “I do. And…thank you…for saying it. I needed to hear it.”

There was a soft silence, during which Caleb turned to look out the window. The speed at which things were passing didn’t bother him as much as it had a few hours before. Perhaps it was the dark, perhaps it was only that his greater problems had very little at all to do with the concussion.

“Nearly there,” Leofric commented as they crossed the isthmus and the first strains of _Über den Wolken_ finally hit the speakers, almost as if his father planned it that way.

Just outside Lohme there were a few clustered neighbourhoods and one rather expansive farm, considering the relative size of the island to begin with. In one such neighbourhood, Caleb had been born and raised. The house was stone at the base and white stucco with sky blue painted shutters and a red tiled roof. Not long after the time Caleb anticipated, they pulled up to the garage and parked. Even after Leofric turned off the ignition, they sat, just generally looking at the dashboard while Caleb waited for his father to ask if he needed help.

He never did.

Caleb breathed a sigh of relief as his father popped open the door. He followed suit and, in no time, his father had all of Caleb’s things piled, handed him one bag to go with the sedately purring Frumpkin and sent him off to the house with them, leaving the impression that, while Caleb had gotten out of being helped needlessly from the car, his luggage was a different matter entirely.

At the door, he slotted in his old, familiar key to brushed metal grooves and it unlatched with a click. There was light on the inside, soft and yellow on the wood paneling of the far wall, the sound of dishware clinking, and the best, homey smell of a meal.

“Mutti! Hallo!”

“Caleb?” Una Widogast appeared from behind a wall. “Oh! Oh, Caleb! Schatz! Komm hier!”

As he set down the bag and dropped Frumpkin to the ground, allowing him to scamper off into the bowels of the house, his mother swooped him fluidly into her arms. Caleb didn’t have to bend too far to accommodate her, letting lie his face at the soft reddish curls that pillowed over her shoulders, drinking in the warmth and the scent of her.

“Hallo, Mama,” he said, feeling like a child again. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too, now let me see your head.” As she fussed about, turning his face from side to side, brushing his hair away and feeling at the less sizable egg to the side of his head, Caleb heard the door again.

“Ach, Una, our boy is fine.” Leofric said. “Let him sit and we’ll get some food in us before sending him off to bed like the child he hasn’t been in years, ja?”

Una tutted, but pulled away. A firm forefinger pressed directly into the center of his chest. “You, go sit. And you,” she turned and pointed, faux stern, at Leofric. “You go get Veth and Yeza, tell them Caleb’s back. I told her they were meant to come for dinner, so don’t let them have you off, okay?”

Caleb’s father smiled, kissing his mother’s cheek. “I do as you command.”

“Ja, you do. You’d _better_.”

Caleb smiled. It was good to be home.

The little dining area was cozy and welcoming as always, the table set for five, and full to overflow with everything he expected. Various cold cuts, smoked salmon, a wedge of gouda and some mini-babybel still in their wax shells, bretzeln and semmeln, even a fresh sesame loaf, soft boiled eggs nestled snug in a warming cloth, a bowl of various fruits, a platter of radishes, pickles, carrots, and kohlrabi next to a plate with spinach and sprouts, and a dish of fresh butter, another three of preserves of various types, one of pesto and one of mustard, which he turned his nose up at a little childishly.

“I can get drinks, Mutti,” Caleb said, almost expecting her to shush him, but she handed him the Pellegrino and the carafe of coffee.

“Now, I know you and I will want tea. I’m warming the water,” she said briskly before turning around for the kitchen. “It’s a shame you can’t have any beer. Your father brought home a rather nice one from your uncle last week. And the wine will have to keep too. But I suppose Veth will want a small sherry, yes?”

“Ah, ja, probably.”

“Good. I’ll bring it out. You handle the rest of us then.”

The comfort of the mundane task, familiar since childhood, set Caleb’s busy mind at ease. It was almost like nothing had happened. Like he could simply go back outside and ask his father to drive him back and he would wake up in the morning and go to classes like always. Like there was no secret life, full of secret memories in the hidden corners of his bruised up brain, falling off dusty shelves like pages from a book whose binding had been eaten away by worms.

Like there was no strange mystic named Mollymauk that Bren Aldric Ermendrud was trying to save.

Like he couldn’t still smell Jamsin in the air.

“Caleb? Engel? Is everything alright?” Una’s voice broke his thoughts and Caleb noticed that he was holding the Pellegrino, open, ready to pour, but had yet to do so.

“Oh, ja, Mutti. Just lost in my thoughts. I’m glad to be home.” Even if the real, tangible familiarity of the place still wasn’t enough to keep him grounded.

“Your Papa told me that you weren’t telling me the whole truth on the phone.” Her tone was curious, if a bit scolding, but he felt no sting from her words, the way he might have. For all she was a rather soft woman, in features and temperament, her bark was nothing to scoff at.

“I didn’t want to worry you.” The words sounded insufficient even to him.

Una pursed her lips and a sparkle – the same one she shared with his father – lit up her eyes. “Well, I will not be too hard on you. I think, perhaps, someone else will take care of that.” She pointed behind Caleb, who turned to see that his father was holding open the door. Before him stepped in a shorter man with wild curls of brown hair and thin glasses, next to a plump woman, just a shade taller than her husband, though much, much shorter than Caleb, her long sleek dark hair plaited in two to either side of her head.

Yeza and Veth Brenatto. Caleb smiled and Veth wasted no time.

“CALEB FLO-rian Widogast!” About halfway through, Veth remembered that he wasn’t supposed to be around loud noises and her volume petered out, along with the pitch of her voice. She ran over to him, hugging him tight around the middle. “Oh, God, you really scared me!”

“Hallo Veth, mein Schatz. Wie geht’s?”

“NOT good! Why didn’t you tell me you weren’t really okay? I’ve been _agonizing_ over you for hours!”

“That’s why, honeysuckle,” Yeza said from the back, waving a little. “Hey, Caleb.”

“Hallo, Yeza.” He looked back to Veth, to her dark brown eyes, long dark lashes beaded with tears. “Komm, Schatz. Mutti has some food on the table and I’m starving. I will tell everyone everything then, okay?”

“Fine. I guess.” She leaned up and kissed his cheek and he couldn’t help but smile.

They all sat, cozy around the table. His parent’s house was dark wood mostly, in contrast to the apartments he and Beau rented back in Oldenburg, and while he liked his home there, there was nothing quite like sitting down in the same rickety chairs, with the same fading cushion covers as he’d sat in every day of his childhood.

As dishes and plates were passed around and they began to eat, Caleb felt the weight of expectation fall upon him.

“So, Caleb,” Leofric said, sliding a few slices of smoked salmon onto his plate. “Why don’t you explain exactly what happened, so that there are no more questions, na ja?”

Setting down his sliced bretzeln, Caleb reached for the pesto jar, focusing his attention on it instead of the intermittent stares he felt on him as the others settled their meals too. “Well, it is much like I told you before, I just… Must we do this at dinner?”

“Probably,” Yeza chimed in again and Caleb glanced up to see Veth’s lower lip wobbling.

“I was riding to lecture. A vehicle clipped my back wheel and I flew and hit a stone wall. When I fell, my head hit the ground. They called for an ambulance and I woke up in the hospital and they told me I had a mid-grade concussion. I was not allowed to go to classes or use devices with screens, really, and I was to keep my spaces dark and wear sunglasses and not sleep for more than an hour at a time without being woken up. That was the first few days, then I was allowed to sleep. I have been drinking a lot of water. I have not been reading much, or using my phone, or being out in sunlight and all those good things. I promise on that. You can call Beauregard and she will tell you the same.” He looked between Veth and his mother. “She was very strict with me.”

“Good.” Both women said at once.

“But, I started, even on the first day home…ah, blanking. Like, going blank for a bit. I didn’t think it was anything, I didn’t…” he almost added ‘notice at first’, but that was an outright lie and he grimaced. “I wasn’t worried about it. I thought it was just a side effect. Anyways, I nearly fell down the stairs, so Beau took me back to the Doctor and they said that I am healing fine.” Veth opened her mouth, but Caleb stopped her before she could start. “They scanned my brain every which way possible and there is nothing additionally wrong with me. They say it is a symptom and may not go away until the concussion is gone. They are… like waking dreams,” he settled on, but Veth caught his eye again, sharp and hawkish for all the full softness of her lovely face and he knew they’d be speaking privately later. “I just don’t want to stay at school while I deal with this. It is too much to ask of Beauregard. She has her own studies to be thinking of. I just didn’t want to worry you all over nothing.”

“Thank you, Caleb,” Una said, setting her fork and knife down to reach across the table for his hand. “We just want you to safe and healthy, liebling. That’s all.”

“Ich weiß, Mama. I’m sorry.”

“I forgive you. Please don’t do it again?”

“I won’t.”

Una turned her head. “Veth?”

Veth’s eyes were narrowed and her arms were crossed, but she reached out her own hand to take his from Una’s. Against her dark olive skin, sun-glowed already, despite the earliness of the season, he looked even more pale than usual, and for a moment, he felt a shiver of worry that he was lying to himself as much as to his family members.

“Caleb, I love you very much. Please, _please_ don’t leave me out of things this important. I don’t know what I’d do if… Well I don’t know what I’d do. Something, probably. Something very rash and stupid.”

“And brave, honey, don’t forget brave.” Yeza piped up, patting her on the shoulder.

“Thank you, sweetie.” She smiled at him, full and wide. “Anyways. You promise?”

“I promise.”

 

That night, in Caleb’s dreams, Bren burned his own parents alive. He shot up from his bed, sweating and shaking, pushing off the comforter and swinging his legs over the edge. Flashes of light, the impossible heat on his cheeks, the racing in his heart.

“How could…how could… _fick_ …” He shuddered, gripping the edge of the mattress so tightly his knuckles were white. Tear streamed in fast rivulets down his cheeks and with a sudden burst of energy, momentum originating as if from nowhere, he pressed himself up from the mattress and to the door; for all his urgency, he moved quietly through the house as only a person who’d grown up and snuck about at night could.

The door to his parent’s bedroom was ajar. He peaked in to see that they were both sleeping, safe and sound and peaceful. For a while, he watched them attempting to stifle his silent tears before turning around and going back to bed, though it took him far, far too long to fall back asleep, whispering into the silence of the night thankful prayers to any being that might be listening how grateful he was not to be Bren.

Morning came softly. Frumpkin was curled up beside his pillow, breaths whistling softly through his little nose. The sun was warm through the windowpane and the sky an impossibly bright, beautiful blue. It was early, early enough that he could bike into town without issue and pick up some morning rolls from the bakery. Stretching as he rose, popping his shoulders and straightening his spine, Caleb felt the lingering weariness from his early morning nightmare. And it was a nightmare, and not a dream. But the sun banished it back to the darkest recesses of his mind.

He threw on some clothes, grabbed his wallet and keys and his pack and made for the door. His bike, which his father had taken off the car rack the night before, was leaned up against the side of the house. After putting his hair back in a messy bun and adjusting his glasses, Caleb grabbed the bike by the handlebars, taking a standing start, and swung his leg over the seat after he was already rolling. It felt good to be back on his bike; ever since he was a child, riding felt almost like flying. It was freeing, like nothing else in the world, to feel the wind against his face and watch the landscape from his peripherals, impressionistic streams of green and blue and brown rushing by around him as though he were living in the painted film that had been made about Van Gogh a few years back.

As he sped past, pumping the pedals from standing, rounding corners, he waved to neighbours who were walking by to the same purpose, all headed for the bakery. Eventually, the neighbourhood dissipated and the open country surrounded him. Caleb made it to Hagen - a small community a little south and east of his parent’s home - in a matter of minutes, the sun rising higher, golden orange and spectacular across the horizon. He kidded to a halt, hopping off the bike even as it trailed, feeling a little lightheaded – not in the way he had so often from the concussion, but rather from the joyousness of it all, from the elation.

He left it outside, leaning in the rack set aside for it, and entered the little café’s door, jingling the bell as he entered. The café was always stocked with any number of baked goods, the fresh, warm scent of which was heady and incredible. He selected a few Nutella filled croissants and some other hard rolls of a variety of types to take home for breakfast. The exchange of a few Euros was short work; he wished the proprietors a good day and then headed back out, rolling up his paper bag and putting it in his pack.

The trip home was even nicer, the sun truly warm on his face now that it was higher in the sky, and the wind not quite so chilly. It would be nice especially when the summer was nearer, and the wind from the coast came up from the south and not down out of the north. Such were the perils of living on an island.

Caleb coasted up to his parent’s house, hopping off the bike just in time to come to a stop at the side door. Taking a deep, deep breath, Caleb filled his lungs with the fresh air, the soft scent of new vegetation and inbound sea breeze, and then stepped inside. He felt good, genuinely good, despite everything he’d experienced the night before.

Inside, the house was alive with the sounds of the morning. Clinking glasses, the scent of his father’s coffee and his mother’s (and hopefully his own) tea.

“Hallo! I got brötchen!” he called down the hall.

“Did you take the bike?”

Wincing a little and his mother’s all too airy tone, Caleb toed off his shoes and rounded the corner, pulling the paper bag from his pack as he did.

“Ja. It was incredible. The grass is still dewy and the sun shone on it like diamonds, I could just have picked a pair up for you Mutti and made them into earring but you would have outshone them still.” He smiled brightly, leaning past her to put the bag on the counter, kissing her cheek in passing. “Guten morgen. How did you sleep?”

“Wonderful, liebsten, but tonight I will have nightmares – don’t think you are getting away without a little trouble, young man. I am not ready for you to ride that bike without one of us there…what if you had a spell? What if you fell off in the middle of the road?”

Brows drawing in, Caleb grasped his mother’s hands in his own. “I have to keep living somehow, Mama.”

She took her hand from his, cupping his cheek with her hand. “I know, Caleb. I know.”

Suddenly, craving closeness, Caleb pulled her into a tight embrace, glance up at his father from over her shoulder. “You know how much I love you right?”

“Of course, Caleb. Of course.”

His father met his eyes and nodded slowly, and Caleb knew that his own expression matched, earnest, a bit watery, and more than a little emotional. They had always spoken best without words; while he could talk endlessly with his mother, they weren’t of a similar disposition, the way he and his father were. More than once they’d spent a quiet afternoon in one another company, unspeaking, simply existing in one another’s space. It was a sort of camaraderie, Caleb supposed. The camaraderie of introversion.

When he pulled back from his mother, Caleb could see that she had tears in her eyes. “Let’s eat, ja?”

“Ja.”

 

Childhood bedrooms were a space that always glowed with golden light; there wasn’t a single one Caleb could recall that didn’t. Veth’s bedroom had lemon yellow walls, making for an extra sunny space, where Caleb’s was a soft sage green. But all the same, with the sun bursting in through his eastern facing windows, it had always felt impossibly golden. His flawless memory immortalized the sight long, long ago, but, standing in his own doorway, scanning the place he’d called his room for most his life, Caleb knew that, in that at least, his mind could be trusted. Tangerine slats of light stretched out across the hardwood floors, across his pale grey bedspread, refracting against the mirror over his chest of drawers. A rainbow hovered over the gentle rise and fall of Frumpkin’s exposed, soft belly where he lay sprawled on the bed.

“Hallo, Frumpkin.” The disturbance of his voice led the cat to lift his head, rolling back a little, and looking directly at Caleb. He yawned widely, showing Caleb all of his teeth and then blinked long and slow. Caleb blinked long and slow right back. “I love you too, kätzchen.”

Softly, he padded to the bed, the cup of tea steaming in his hand. Setting it down on the side table, Caleb settled onto the mattress, laying out with his head right beside Frumpkin, petting the silky fur of his stomach lazily, while he listened to the motor of his cat’s purr drone on comfortingly in his ear, lulling him gently back to sleep.

The overpowering scent of _Jasmin_ wafted over him and he breathed slow and deep and even as the memory took hold.

_“Cay!!!” Veth called. “I’m stuck!!!”_

_“I’ll come get you, Schatz!”_

_“I HATE being short! I am a good climber! I want to do that ropes course, but I can’t even get down from this tree!” She ranted from up above as Caleb took a running start, bare feet padding through the dewy grass, and jumped for the lowest branch. His hands caught, the rough bark digging into the soft, untested spring-fresh palms of his hands. Summer would see to their toughening, as it always did, but the calluses were long lost through winter’s hibernation, when the most climbing of trees they did was in their imaginations as they sat, side by side, starting out the window at the trees longingly._

_Flexing his grip, Caleb tensed and pulled himself up, swinging a leg over the branch to help hoist himself to sitting. “I know, Veth, but I’m not that much taller than you are!”_

_“But you don’t have stumpy arms and legs like I do! You’re all long and gangly and I’m just…I’m not.”_

_“You are perfect as you are.”_

_“Am not. If I was perfect as I am, I could get back down out of this tree without help!”_

_Caleb laughed as he crouched on the branch, testing its strength. The old oak was their favoured climbing tree, but Veth had gone higher than usual. That was the best part, after all, of climbing the first spring tree, one with brightly budding branches, sprouting shoots of vibrant green. Seeing how tall they’d grown, how much farther they could reach. For Veth, it wasn’t much farther, but for Caleb…_

_He could feel the excitement coursing through his veins as he drew himself up and up the waiting arms of the oak until he was sitting on another branch across from Veth._

_“Hallo!”_

_“Hallo!”_

_They sat for a moment, smiling at one another’s mutual success before giggling insatiably at one another._

_“Caleb?”_

_“Ja, Veth?”_

_“What do you want for your birthday?” Veth asked, twisting the hem of her shirt between her fingers. “Caleb, you’re my best friend. I’ve been…we’ve been friends for two years! That’s the longest I’ve ever had a friend and I just-“_

_“You are my best friend, too, Veth. The best friend I have ever had. I am…well, you know. I like books and the other boys think I’m silly and the girls say I’m funny and run away.”_

_“Everyone runs from me though, Caleb. You’re the only one here who likes me.”_

_“Basta! The new one, Jessie, I think she wants to be your friend! She got in trouble, did you hear? For painting penises in her artbook!”_

_Veth’s serious face broke at that and they giggled some more, but it wasn’t enough to keep her from returning to the discussion._

_“They all say that I’m a silly weirdo and that I should go away.”_

_“You’re not, Veth. You’re not,” he surged up, standing precariously on the branch, one hand gripping the other above him, his bare toes curling around the one below. “You’re Nott! That’s what we’ll do! Any time they are mean, I will call you Nott, to remind you that you’re not silly, or a weirdo!”_

_Veth’s eyes glowed with unshed tears and her lower lip wobbled. “I love you Caleb. You’re the best.”_

_“I love you, too.” They smiled and took hands. “What I want for my birthday is to be friends with you for my whole life,” Caleb settled on finally. “Do you think we can do that?”_

_“Oh, absolutely!”_

_“Good. And this will be our spot. We should…have you got your knife?”_

_“Of course?” Veth said, looking a little confused. “Why’d you need it?”_

_“We should do a blood pact, like in my books! All of the knights in my book took a blood oath! They sliced their thumbs and shook hands.”_

_Veth turned up her nose. “Really? That seems a little…that seems…A LOT. That seems a lot. Do we have to?”_

_“We can try?”_

_Veth reached into the pocket of her pants and produced a very nice knife, which he parents had gotten her at Yule. “You first.”_

_She passed it off to Caleb who took it, opening it gingerly. For a while he held the gleaming silver blade open, hovering over his thumb. “Ah, but you are so much braver than I am. You should go first,” his gaze darted up to her._

_“Ah, ah, no way. If you’re chicken, I’m absolutely chicken. How about we just spit in our hands instead like they do in the movies.”_

_Caleb turn his nose up. “No thank you. How about we just carve our initials?”_

_“Nooo,” Veth moaned exaggeratedly. “That’s for when you_ like _someone.”_

_“I like you.”_

_“Not like that, Caleb. Like the way you like Wulf.”_

_Immediately, his cheeks heated. “He’s quiet too, when he isn’t playing fußball. And he asked about my books.”_

_Veth waggled her eyebrows. “You_ like _him.”_

 _Caleb shrugged. “He’s cute too, but I don’t really know him. You were not here when Astrid was here. I, uh…_ liked _her also. She moved away…I kissed her once! But I did not know that putting your name on a tree was only for when you liked someone_ that way _.” He frowned. “People are always carving their names on the bridges in Jasmund, but they are not always…like that?”_

_Screwing up her face, Veth thought for a moment. “Okay then, we can put our names on the tree I guess. And I’ll even put my new nickname!”_

_Caleb grinned, glad to see her happy as she struck her name across the bark._

_“Hey,” he said. “Call me when you are done, I am going to see how much higher I can get.”_

_“Okay, but if you get stuck, it won’t be me helping you! Remember? I can’t get down, and I definitely can’t go up.”_

_“I will be fine.”_

_He looked up at the halo of branches, the maze of pathways, infinite to the mind of a child, picked one, and reached. Five feet more. Ten. Fifteen. One final branch sparked his excitement. He leaned out, went to grasp it in his hands, already growing more resistant to the roughness of the bark._

_Caleb’s fingers just brushed against it when he heard the_ CRACK _and the branch beneath his feet gave and suddenly, he was falling, falling-_

_Branches scraped and pulled at him and Veth was shrieking and he just barely had time to see the terror on her face before there was only air and then suddenly, the ground and his mind went black._

_( The world spread out before him through the window. Vast and unfamiliar, though he thought maybe it bore a little resemblance to Köln, which he’d seen once, a few years back, but even for as good as his memory was, Caleb knew that few people recalled things from when they were five and he was nearly eight._

_“Bren, what are you doing?”_

_“Looking out, Master.” Caleb heard himself reply. He wanted to wrinkle his nose, but couldn’t; his face remained impassive. “I have never seen Rexxentrum from such a height before.”_

_“No, I suppose not, my boy,” said the voice of the man behind him. “But come, it is time for your lesson.”_

_Caleb turned as if on command, and strode towards the man, tall with long white hair, who must have been the speaker. But his attention diverted for a brief moment, and he glanced to the side to see himself in a long gilded mirror, with gold wrought linden leaves. Older, hair shorter, wearing a dress? No! Robes. Like…_

_“Come, Bren and show me what you have learned.”_

_Caleb looked down at himself and watched his hands ignite in flames. He thought about screaming, but it didn’t hurt. It didn’t even sting._

_“Ah, my little mage. You are learning so well. Someday, little mage, you will have people running after you in the streets to share with them an_ ounce _of your magic. I couldn’t be more proud.” )_

And then, Caleb woke up.

He could smell the tea, steam drifting in the air, _Jasmin_ heady, almost like it was really there, as though a bouquet had been placed beside him. Caleb blinked open his eyes, languidly. He locked on to Frumpkin, who locked on to him. Pushing himself up on his elbows, Caleb looked around.

_In the distance was a willow. At his feet, a path. Step by step, he drew closer, parting the thick curtain of branches and leaves._

_Red eyes. Red eyes in the dark._

The momentary glimpse faded, and he was back in his room, not back in the childhood memory. Butting at his side with his little head, Frumpkin _mrruped_.

_Find me…Free me…_

He could hear the voice ringing in his ears.

Caleb would find him, this Mollymauk, and he would free him, whoever he was, but the memory from his own childhood bothered him almost more disconcerting. Caleb stood up from the bed, his jeans wrinkling, the fabric to heavy and hot against his legs from laying in the sun so long. Disgruntled by the shift, Frumpkin raised his head again before standing up and stretching. Before leaving the room, Caleb scooped his cat up, cuddling him close, and walked out the door to find his parents.

They were in the living room, each at a chair with a reading material in hand, and Caleb thought to himself that if a person were to view them now who knew only Caleb, they’d understand him acutely.

“Ah, Caleb, you’re awake. We set a timer, just in case,” his father said, putting down the day’s copy of _Spiegel._

Caleb waved his hand, as if putting him off the thought. “The doctor said I only needed that for two or three days afterwards, but danke, anyways. I, um…” He scratched Frumpkin nervously under his little chin and then sat down on the empty divan. “I have…a question. Do you remember, before…before the last time I was hit by the bike?”

His parent exchanged glances.

“Of course we remember, Caleb.” His mother put down her own book. “What is this about?”

Settling Frumpkin on his lap, Caleb removed his glasses for a moment and put his head in his hands, rubbing over his face as he shut his eyes tightly. “Did I…did I fall out of the oak tree? With Veth? Well, not _with_ Veth, but Veth was in the tree too, and we were talking about being friends forever…or something. It was nearly my birthday…”

When he glanced back up, steepeling his hands over his mouth, he could see the matching pair of intent looks focused entirely on him.

“Caleb?” His mother stood, walking to his side. “Caleb are you _remembering_ things? From before?”

“Uh…” He hid his face again. “I think, maybe. Ja. Probably.”

“Oh. Well.”

“Mutti, Vati, did I ever…”

With a slight shock, he breathed in and the world around misted away.

_“I am TOO.”_

_“No you’re not!”_

_“Doch!”_

_“Nein!”_

_“Doch!”_

_“Nein!”_

_“Doch! I am! He was real! And I’m him! Why don’t you believe me, Wulf? I thought you liked my books?”_

_“Ja, Caleb, but I don’t_ believe _I’m some other person! You’re crazy! Go have fun with your little button girl-friend. Or does Veth even want you anymore now that you’re even weirder than her?”_

_“Why are you being like this?”_

_Wolf shook his head. “Go away, Caleb. Or should we call you Bren now?”_

_“Nein, Wolf, bitte-“_

“-leb?”

The living room came back into focus. “Wolf,” he said, ignoring the question. “Wolf told me to go away. He didn’t believe me…Did…Did I tell you? Did you know?”

“Know what, Caleb?” Leofric was leaning heavily forward in his seat.

“About…about when I thought…” _When you remembered, you liar._ “When I thought I was, ah…Bren. Bren Al-Aldric Ermendrud?”

Leofric and Una exchanged a long, measured glance. “I’m afraid that we don’t know anything of the sort, do we, Leofric?”

“No, Una, my dear, not that I can recall. Caleb, you did fall out of a tree. You didn’t break anything, miraculously. Just bumped your head.”

“Ja,” he laughed humourlessly. “I seem to do lots of that. You are sure? I did not…act strangely after that?”

His mother shook her head. “No. No, you were like you always are, liebling. Except that Veth did a lot of the reading to you, rather than the other way around, after that for a time. I do recall, though, that you and Wolf didn’t get along too much after that. I don’t recall why…but Veth was always better for you anyways. Wolf was a wild child.”

Caleb rolled his eyes. “Ja, and I was not? We were all just as wild as one another, running around loose all over the countryside and the park.”

They all laughed a little, but Caleb’s smile did not reach his eyes. For some reason, his parents were obviously lying. Whatever it was that they knew, they didn’t seem to _want_ him to remember it. The image of Veth’s expression from the night before flashed back to him and Caleb resolved himself to go by the house, or, depending on the hour, their shop, a local Apothecary and asking her what it was exactly that she knew that he didn’t. What his parents knew. What everyone seemed to know, save himself.

“You know, Caleb,” his father said, suddenly. “Maybe you’re just getting some memories confused, is all. If that knock on your head is bringing them back to you, maybe they’ve been jumbled up. Maybe this…Ermendrud character is from some book of yours that only your subconscious remembers reading about. Or maybe it’s one of the books Veth read you.”

“Oh.” Caleb put as much sincerely into his voice and expression as possible. “Perhaps…perhaps you are right. You must be right. Danke.” He shook his head. “I’m sorry, I’m just…confused. A little…unsure.”

“We understand, dear one.”

Love and light shone from his mother’s eyes and Caleb tried very hard not to cease in his game of pretend, instead forcing them to really explain to him what exactly it was that had happened before his tenth birthday. Una looked so worried that he could hardly even manage to entertain the thought.

“Thank you, for everything.”

“Of course, Caleb. What are parents for if not caring for their children?”

His mother’s words echoed his father’s from the day before, and Caleb briefly entertained the idea that they were conspiring against him. “Making their kids lives difficult,” he threw back with a smile, genuine that time, because of all things, in the moment, it was the truth. Either his parents didn’t realize it, or just were very good at pretending (he didn’t put that skill past them, they’d raised a very inquisitive little boy into a very curious man, after all) because they smiled too. “I’m going to go see Veth. I am sure I will make it there fine, but I will have my cell on me, just in case, okay?”

“Okay.” Una kissed his brow and returned to her seat and Leofric gave him one last eye-sparkling grin before picking the paper back up. And with that, Caleb turned and left the living room with more questions than he’d had when he entered it.

From his room, he stuffed a nice leather bound journal, one of many he kept, into his pack, along with a few other things: some buttons for Veth, his compass and two of his favourite mechanical pencils, along with an eraser Beau had gotten him, oval with the image of a beautiful bird inked onto it. Regretfully, he looked to the long cold cup of tea. He slung the pack over his shoulder before lifting the saucer and cup together. Briefly, he admired the poppy pattern that his mother had bought from the Post before swilling the amber liquid in the cup just a little.

The scent of _Jasmin_ almost overpowered him again.

“Ah.”

It had been the tea, and nothing more.

“Maybe you are going insane, Caleb Widogast. Only one way to find out.”

He poured the tea out at the kitchen sink, and then headed back out the door.

Instead of heading into Hagen on the bike, this time he turned left from the driveway and headed north-easterly towards the coastal hamlet of Lohme, the greater area in which his parent’s house technically resided. The closer he grew towards the ocean, the more powerful the salty scent grew. The Ostsee was cold, always, but exceedingly beautiful. Though it couldn’t be glimpsed from the Brenatto home (which resided above the shop that Yeza and Veth ran together) it’s nearness and influence on the small town could not be denied.

Gulls swooped overhead, crying out and squawking indignantly, while the sounds of tourist groups and locals alike started to crest over the rushing wind in Caleb’s ears. He coasted down most of the streets, rarely even needing to hold out a hand in signification of a turn, as the roads weren’t completely crowded yet. Spring wasn’t quite far enough along yet for all of the vacationers to come up to enjoy the beach and the grand chalk cliffs for which Caleb’s home was famous. He imagined the he might even be able to go up to the Königsstul without finding much of a crowd. The enormous, incredible cliff formation, was the highlight of the ancient forest coastline, revered and harrowed in like kind.

 

Not but a few streets up from some of the more extravagant hotels, Caleb veered onto a side street, dropping the bike in the back of the store. He rustled through his pack for the keys and let himself into the stairwell. It slammed shut rather hard behind him as he tromped up the stairs to the door at the top, which entered into the Brenattos’ personal living space.

He knocked. “Hallo! Hier ist Caleb! Lass mich rein, bitte?”

Shortly, the door opened to Yeza’s jovial face, his cheeks a little flushed, as always. “Good morning, Caleb!”

“Good morning, Yeza. Is it a bad time, or can I come in?”

“Oh, no, no, everything is perfectly fine, Caleb! Come on in, please!” Veth’s husband stepped aside, humming a little tune to himself, and, while he was usually a happy, if jumpy, sort of fellow, Caleb thought it just a tad strange, unable to help watching the back of his head quizzically as he followed him inside.

“Veth and I were just sitting down for some _café und kuchen_ , you have perfect timing!” Whenever the Italiener spoke particularly purposefully in German, Caleb couldn’t help but hold his own private amusement. Yeza loved Veth so much, when they met on her exchange trip, that he’d followed her back home and they married not long after. In their home, they spoke mostly French, the only language they shared to the same degree of fluency, though, after years living in Lohme, he’d mostly gotten the hang of things, even if his accent coloured everything with a very deliberate flare, one that Caleb knew Veth adored, for every time Yeza did, Caleb caught her looking at him as if ready to pounce.

 

“Danke, Yeza.” Caleb switched to French. “That would be nice. You look particularly happy today. Good news? The business?”

“What? Hmm? Oh! Yes, the business if very good,” he replied distractedly. “Veth! Caleb is here!”

“Oh! Caleb! Hello! Come in! We’re just sitting down! I’ll grab a plate for you!”

In no time at all, they were sitting around a Johannesbeerentorte, steaming cups of coffee cooling at each place.

“Now,” Veth said, sitting down. “How’re you feeling?”

“Ah, well, that is what I wanted to talk to you about,” he started, carefully, lifting a forkful of torte halfway to his mouth. “You gave me a look last night, when I was explaining. It seemed like you had something to say.”

“Oh.” Veth took a bite, not looking at Caleb. She'd always been an excellent secret keeper, save when it came to him.

“Veth, I had a... memory come back this morning. Of us two in a tree together.”

“Oh!” Yeza nodded. “You mean the time you fell?”

Veth's head whipped around to look at her husband sharply and Caleb did not mistake it. There was something she was keeping from him. Something his parents were keeping from him, too.

“Yes. Yeza is right. You did fall.”

“You asked me what I wanted for my birthday…” he prodded her further along, but she took another bite to prolong her response. They all chewed in silence, Yeza looking between them a little awkwardly.

“I did. Do you... remember what you told me? Did that come back to you, Cay?”

There was an urgent tremor to her voice that made Caleb consider his next words carefully. “I told you that I wanted to be your friend forever.” He watched Veth carefully as she took in his words. As if following the path of a fly, Veth’s eyes darted from focus to focus. “What was it about last night? Why did you make that face at me?”

“I- oh…” Veth stammered and then stood, abruptly. “'scuse me, Caleb. I uh… don't feel well.”

Yeza and Caleb watched her escape from the room and then looked to one another. Yeza grinned wide eyed and a little too brightly.

“She'll be back,” he said, voice pitched up the way it often did when he was nervous or excited. Which, ultimately, was most of the time.

“How is the shop?” Caleb asked after a moment. He and Yeza had never been awkward with one another before, at least, not really. They’d bonded easily when he followed Veth back from Italy, generally over how much they both cared for her, but sitting there together in a silence that Caleb could tell was filled with unsaid things put him off his guard.

“It’s well, thanks! Veth and I are working on a few new natural remedies to sell, but the Apothecary continues to gain customers! Of course, Veth’s the one with the head for business,” Yeza said, gesturing with open palms. “as always, and I couldn’t do it without her.”

“I’m glad to hear that things are well.”

The silence stretched out a good deal longer without Veth returning and Yeza was starting to fidget, anxious.

“I, uh, I’m going to go check on her.”

Caleb stood with him. “You know what? I’m going to go for a little hike, you take care of Veth, let her know that I love her, ja?”

“Oh, of course.” Yeza nodded vigorously. “Come back after your hike?” he asked, earnest tones ringing in the little kitchenette. “Maybe she’ll be feeling better then.”

“Danke, Yeza. I will see you later.” Without waiting, Caleb saw himself out.

Back on his bike, he tried not to ruminate too much of Veth's strange behaviour. He hadn't really gotten the chance to ask what he wanted to, even though she’d confirmed that at least some of the memory was accurate. She had really looked ill though, and Caleb couldn’t help but hope that she going to be alright. It was convenient, but pure coincidence. There would be time again for them to talk. There was always time to talk, when it came to Veth.

Caleb didn’t have to go too far to find his way into the Stubnitz. Park Jasmund was home to some of the most incredible coastline, not to mention the beech trees, some so ancient they predated the Carpathian period. Of all places Caleb could have grown up, it was the Jasmund peninsula which contributed so thoroughly to his wild imagination. As a youth, he’d imagined all sorts of fair folk lived within the woods, that if he walked deep enough, traversed enough paths, went far enough out of sight of civilization, perhaps he might come out to find the world changed around him. To find Middle Earth, or Narnia, or Camelot, or Faerun, or some other mystical realm with had yet to be named in popular fiction.

Caleb Widogast, head perpetually in the clouds, save when it came to studying for a test. At least that’s what the kids at school had said. The truth was that studying wasn’t much of hardship and he did, indeed, spend the good majority of his time with his nose in a book, lying beneath a tree somewhere, barefoot, an apple in hand while Veth talked about seeing the world. They were different in that much. She’d gone eventually and seen the world, and found a husband for her trouble.

To Caleb, the world was in a book, and he didn’t need to go anywhere to find it. He was perfectly content, right where he was, until he needed to go to college, that was. And yet, here he was back home, again.

It felt right. It felt good.

The sun was high by the time he arrived, and after parking his bike and securing it, he took a draught from his metal water bottle before setting off into the verdant green expanse of the perfectly normal forest. The moment his boots hit the soft matted grass of a pathway, something within him sparked and changed. Elation zipped through his veins and he felt alive with undefined anticipation, the air singing in his lungs, loose strands of his hair brushing in his eyes, but he didn’t mind. Closing his eyes, Caleb let himself fall back out of time.

He lost himself in the forest. At first, the brush wasn’t as dense, despite the towering height of the trees; they were farther apart at the mouth of the woods, but the canopy was dense and very little light suffused beneath it, leaving a cool shade of open space, filled with only the soft browns of the tree trunks and a few bright green shoots of grass.

Deeper and deeper he went. The rustle of the trees eventually subsumed the light sound of traffic. Birds chattered around him and more than once he stopped just to breath. But something _itched_ beneath his skin, something living, something pulsing within him that drove his feet to move, his muscles to stretch and burn until he was running, dashing unrestrainedly down the empty paths, a little too cold yet for the usual tourist crowd.

He didn’t know where he was going. It didn’t even really matter. The scent of _Jasmin_ was on the wind, blending with _Hyazinthen_ now, and _Oleander_ , _Azaleen_ and _Wisterie,_ sickly sweet and mystifying. None of them grew within the Stubniz, and yet, he could smell them all clear as day, just like the soaps that Veth sometimes made with Yeza in the back of the store, but fresher, stronger.

Against his face, the wind was warm, suddenly, oddly. And up from the south, instead of bringing the scent of the northern seas, there was only heat and green and nectar.

Caleb came to a stop. The little glade in which he stood was nothing more spectacular than the rest of the forest. The path was still in sight, but the glade, with it’s long, waving grasses and the glint of a little pool of water, called to him. He took one step. Another.

He looked down.

At his feet, a stalk of _Fingerhüte_ , of a colour unlike any he’d ever seen, a beautiful bright white, and at the center, deep, blood red.

Allured, Caleb leaned down, brushed a finger over the petal and then dropped, eyes slipping shut as the world around him vanished completely into darkness and smoke.

_Bren, quite young, working the fields._

_Bren, in his adulthood, working on spells._

_Bren, a young man, bending on knee to an emperor and receiving commendation._

_Bren, a teen at best, walking the halls with the older mage._

_Bren, in very fine uniform, dancing with a young woman with close cropped hair._

_Bren, youthful body gangly and lean, hiding by the riverbank with a boy his own age, exchanging the barest pecks of kisses._

_Bren, peeking from behind a doorway as he listened to his parents speak treason._

_Bren, fighting with the young woman, who smacks him across the face, backhanded as she yelled and he fell back onto their bed._

_Bren, fire on his hands as he executed an old man. Orders were orders._

_Bren, hair shorn, weeping silently in his bed, alone, arms bloody._

_Bren, on his knees outside a flaming homestead, screaming himself hoarse._

_Bren, smiling up at his mentor, eager and earnest, youthful and innocent._

_Bren, back up against a tree, a boy on the edge of manhood, the other boy – the same boy as before – pressed up against him, thigh jammed between Caleb’s legs, hands buried in his hair, their lips parting for one another._

_Bren, older again, lower face obscured by a well-manicured beard, handing his mentor a sealed scroll, decreeing his transfer to another section of the Assembly. His mentor’s face dark as storm clouds, cold as the frost on winter windows._

_Bren, almost exactly as Caleb looked to himself, blood streaked across his face, clinging in his beard, waves of flaming hair loose from their ties as he wields both sword and spell, light and power dripping from his lips, shooting from his fingertips, people falling in his wake, one by one, a terrible manic smile on his features._

_Bren, lines around his eyes, cheeks sallow and visage gaunt, his garb torn and bloodied, fighting in a similar manner, but without manic mirth. Only weariness, only sadness, waiting for the end._

_Bren, a little boy, holding a book, watching a candle flicker to life for the very first time._

_Bren, a man, kissing a shadowed figure._

_Bren, holding a purple hand in his own, kissing it gently._

_Bren, running towards the glade, towards the willow, arms outstretched, chest heaving with rapid breaths, the sound of pounding footsteps behind him._

_Bren, professing his love at the foot of that same willow tree._

_Red eyes. Red eyes in the dark._

Breathing heavily, Caleb woke up to anxious faces looking down on him.

“Oh, Caleb!”

His mother on the right, his father on the left. Veth and Yeza at his feet, watching from a distance.

“Caleb, you need to take things easier, this concussion…”

There was no pain, but he still shut his eyes to the bright lights, listening for the tell tale beeping of hospital machinery.

“…sleep…”

“…concussion…”

“…Finnish tourists…”

“…saved your life…”

“…so worried…”

It was still there, the _Jasmin_ in the air. He could smell it, feel the clinging warmth.

Desperately, eagerly, he reached for the lingering vestiges of the memory, of the dream, and fell.

 

 


	4. 3.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Everyone should be happy about this chapter!

3.

“may my faith always be

at the end of the day

 

like a hummingbird...returning

to its favorite flower.”

~ Sanober Khan, _Turquoise Silence_

 

“At night I dream that you and I are two plants

that grew together, roots entwined,

and that you know the earth and the rain like my mouth,

since we are made of earth and rain.”

~ Pablo Neruda, _Regalo de un Poeta_

 

The woods was familiar. Beeches swayed in the soft buffeting of the unseasonably warm wind, but the sound was muffled, as though cotton was blocking Caleb’s ears. He’d seen this place before, in his memories from Bren’s life, but this was different. The whole of the place was saturated with a yellow-green light, like new leaves in the spring, but the foliage was unfurled completely, though many of the flowers, little white things that dotted the landscape, were still tightly budded, as if they’d just curled themselves up for a nap. If he bent down, he wondered, and brushed the petals apart, would there be tiny fae creatures asleep there, in their soft little beds, alien faces blinking wide up at him, little pearl teeth gnashing were he to disturb their rest?

Everything seemed slow. His breathing, his heartrate, the blood pounding sluggishly through his ears. It was like a veil had been pulled over the world, a misty haze and Caleb was pushing through the gauze, only to find no tear, no edge. Like swimming suspended in sunlight. One step forward seemed at first an age or ten, and then something hit him. A wave almost, that brought golden light and a clarity he’d lacked only moments before, crystalline and clean, like a sea breeze, but warmer. Too humid and chilled all at once.

Caleb knew the place he was standing. The same place where he’d bent down to touch the little _Fingerhüte._ Fondly, he recalled telling Beau the name, how she’d laughed when she realized that her beloved Foxgloves were nothing more than ‘finger hats’ in German. He looked a little farther on the path, to see that they dotted along the side, neatly hidden by shoots of bright green grass. For a while, he simply walked, watching where they led him, turning towards where they grew up and away from the places where they didn’t, until the densely wooded area opened up into a sunlit glade of tall grasses, waving and dancing like a gentle sea.

 _Come_ , they seemed to call him. _Come to us._

Caleb followed the footpath until it reached an impossibly tall, old willow, whose branches creaked and groaned and swayed in the subtle warmth of the wind. He stepped forward, gently pushing aside the curtain of green to sun-dappled shadow. The sight he revealed stunned him into stillness.

A wood-nymph lay back on the wide branch of the willow. It was bigger around than the nymph’s slender form by far. The nymph’s limbs hung lazily off the edge, the loose gossamer mantel draped over the nymph’s body distractingly, catching on the roughness of the bark. Shifting, the nymph’s head turned. The deceptively beautiful curling ram’s horns that grew from the nymph’s temples were bedecked with _Jasmin_ and pure white _Azaleen_ to contrast with _Wisterie_ tinted skin and luxurious curls of deep plum. The pastel bells of the beautiful but poisonous _Fingerhüte_ dangled from the sharp points of the horns.

When they opened, Caleb could see that the nymph’s eyes were red. They looked at him, not through him, as he anticipated and a smile spread like the sun on a new spring day, bringing light to the nymph’s features.

Caleb couldn’t tear his gaze away.  
  
  
  
  


 

A curious look graced the nymph’s features as the red eyes took Caleb in, glancing him thoroughly up and down. A look like an ache, like incredible, unending sadness was being washed away just by his presence alone.

Caleb looked down at himself, confused. He still wore his old hiking boots, his tattered, torn jeans, the loose heather gray henley, and saw nothing special. Adjusting his glasses, Caleb licked his lips and took another step forward.

“Bren? Bren? Have you come for me?” The nymph’s voice, lilting and lower than Caleb had anticipated, broke the unnatural silence of the glade. In the swaying shade of the willow, it seemed anything was possible. “I thought you were lost!”

“I...I am only Caleb. Caleb Widogast.”

“Oh. I’m Mollymauk. And this is my tree. It’s only… you look like-”

“Bren Aldric Ermendrud?”

The Nymph looked at him askance.

“I think I am here to save you, Mollymauk.”

For a moment, Caleb felt as though he’d said something wrong, for Mollymauk – it _was_ he, from Bren’s letters, Mollymauk, the mystic in the tree – tilted his head and leaned forward a ways, peering more closely. Nervous, Caleb ran a hand over his face, a bit perturbed when he found that there were no glasses perched over the bridge of his nose to get in the way. His hair too, hung limp and he tried not to feel self-conscious at the scrutiny of the inspection.

With lithe grace, Mollymauk dropped from the tree branch. He came to stand to about the same height as Caleb, were he to remove the hiking boots, but even compared to Mollymauk’s unrepentantly near-nude state, Caleb felt much smaller. He kept his eyes trained on Mollymauk’s impossibly striking features and vibrant tattoos, which traversed much of his body as well as his face, almost enraptured by them in ways he wasn’t sure he yet understood.

The blood in his veins sang and burned thrillingly.

One slender hand reached out and grasped Caleb by the shoulder as the mystic slowly started to circle him, passing around his back, letting the hand drag over his shoulders and across his neck.

“You look so much like him. But you’re not him, are you?” A light tremor passed through the nymph’s voice. “He died…he died…”

“Ah,” Caleb turned a little in place, trying to follow Mollymauk’s slow progress as he surveyed him. “I am not. I think…I think maybe I was? Once…” Caleb shut his eyes, the memories playing there in the darkness of his mind. “Long ago. In another life…I carry his memories with me. You are the mystic in the tree. He wrote letters…he was trying to free you.”

Mollymauk reappeared from behind him, the only indicator the soft shush of his samite robe over the moss. “Do you remember me?” he asked, hand still resting on Caleb’s shoulder. “Do _you_ remember, Caleb Widogast?”

“I…” Eyes fluttering open to find Mollymauk much closer than he expected, Caleb stammered, his mouth dry. He couldn’t help but let his gaze drift downwards, trailing the path of the tattooed peacock from where it rested over the flesh the Mystic’s cheek down his neck to the flat planes of his exposed chest. The soft gossamer of the robe drifted around his feet. “Your eyes. I saw your eyes,” Caleb’s words were sighs, hanging suspended in the stillness, the willow’s protective embrace shuttering them from the outside world. “And you smell of _Jasmin_. I…”

“Come.” Mollymauk said abruptly, taking his hand, their palms connecting, warm and secure. “Let me show you my glade, Caleb Widogast.”

“Just Caleb, please.”

Mollymauk didn’t answer. Pulling Caleb by the hand, he walked them around the enormous tree trunk. Caleb reached out his fingertips to touch the rough textured bark as they passed, the caress fleeting. He didn’t know what he’d expected, but it was nothing but bark. No spark, no energy. Just a tree. The curtain of willow-whips was an opaque veil, behind which lay some unknown space, but Caleb desired more than anything to know what was beyond it. Be it dream, or reality, Mollymauk’s hand in his was solid and firm and warm, and Caleb allowed himself to be led, willingly, blindly, perhaps stupidly to wherever it was Mollymauk intended to take him.

Something flicked against his leg, and for a brief moment, Caleb looked down and saw that protruding from beneath Mollymauk’s long samite mantel was a thin, spaded tail.

Reaching out his free arm, Mollymauk parted the curtain of leaves, but from the angle where they stood, he blocked Caleb’s view. He turned back to glance at Caleb over his shoulder, smiling, and for all Caleb had anticipated that the nymph’s face would be hard to read, the look was surprisingly genuine. Even his piercing red eyes glowed with a soft light and settled upon him with a gentle gaze.

“Are you afraid of me, Caleb?” He asked, curious through his near shy excitement.

“Nein. I am not.”

“Are you _sure_?”

Caleb stayed silent for a moment, and then gripped Mollymauk’s hand tightly and stepped towards him. “I am sure,” he said, and found that he meant it.

The nymph smiled at him again, but his eyes were so happy it almost brought Caleb to tears. “I’m glad,” he said, “so very glad,” and pulled Caleb into the world waiting beyond the willow.

The glade opened into a perfect, secluded meadow of soft, rolling grasses, dotted with little yellow and white flowers. Not too far off, the tree line continued, and, if Caleb strained his ears, he could hear the gentle trickling of a little brook. Mollymauk kept his hand in Caleb’s, glancing back every so often to smile. The expression lit his face, and it warmed Caleb more than the sun. He found himself shuddering, cheeks hot, giddy like a schoolboy.

“Where-?” he started to ask, but Mollymauk only smirked, such a vastly different expression from the sedate curiosity of before that Caleb nearly stumbled over his own feet.

The nymph paused, waiting for him to regain his balance, grinned impishly and then tugged, darting off through the grass, pulling Caleb along behind him, struggling to keep up as Mollymauk let out a bark of laughter. He spun, leading Caleb in a patternless spiral through the glade, drawing nearer to a young tree, just out of sapling years. Just as they passed it, the nymph reached out a hand, grasping the trunk and swung them both around it before letting go very suddenly and falling backwards into the soft pillow of grass and moss, half in and out of shadow, pulling Caleb down with him.

With a puff of breath, Caleb landed beside Mollymauk, who had already propped himself up on one elbow, the other hand tangling on his own hair, jostling the wreath of flowers. Their faces scant inches apart, Caleb looked to the wide smile and saw for the first time gleaming incisors, longer and sharper than a humans, but he felt no waver of his heart, no flickering of fear.

The expression on the nymph’s face was, however, familiar.

“You are the cat who’s got the cream, ja? But what is the cream?” He asked, only half concerned.

Suggestively, Mollymauk’s brows arched and he bit his lip, reaching out a hand to push back the hair from Caleb’s face, curling it about his ear, but no answer seemed forthcoming.

“Your hair is more beautiful than liquid bronze, did you know?”

“N-nein.”

Mollymauk blinked prettily, lashes fluttering over his cheek, soft as butterfly wings, and he trailed his hand down from Caleb’s hair to his chest, pushing him back with little effort, so that he sank down into the soft cushion of grass. Mollymauk hovered over him.

“How did you come to be here?”

Caleb spluttered, surprised by the warring combination of soft, deft touches and disarming, straightforward questions. Tongue darting out to wet his lips, Caleb felt it as the nymph undid the top two buttons on his henley, running sharp nails lightly over the exposed skin of his chest, and through soft reddish hair

“Uh…I-“

“Are you really here?” The sudden urgency that coloured the nymph’s tone left Caleb at a loss. “You said you were here to free me.”

“I…” Caleb’s gaze wandered as a butterfly landed on one of Mollymauk’s horns. “Oh, um…” He blinked a few times, distracted twofold by it, as well as the subtle motion of Mollymauk’s slender hand laid over the center of his chest, tapping and stroking gently. “I don’t know. I was hiking. I think…I think I am dreaming. This is… you are… ah…” Caleb couldn’t help but let out a nervous laugh. “You are too beautiful to be real, I think. I _am_ going mad.”            

Sharp nails skated his skin, Mollymauk’s hand sliding up to his collarbone. “I’ve been alone here a _long_ time, Caleb,” the nymph began. It was jarring to see him so suddenly subdued once more, but when his red eyes flickered back up to stare intently into Caleb’s own bright blues, he seemed less subdued and more contemplative.

“Is…is that so?”

They were so close, so, _so_ unbearably close, that Caleb could feel Mollymauk’s breath on his cheek and for a moment, he thought that Mollymauk might lean down and-

“Yes.” Abruptly, the Nymph pulled back, sitting up beside him, one long leg stretched out in the grass, the other hugged to his chest, gauzy material of his covering falling elegantly and uselessly to the side. The loss of contact was so sudden, Caleb felt utterly bereft, as though something had been pulled from alongside his soul. “A long, long time.”

Caleb pushed himself up onto his elbows, drawing back into the nymph’s space as if drawn by invisible threads. “I want to help you. I do, _really_ , want to help you. Whether you are a dream or not, doesn’t matter. I am here, and I will set you free. I think…I think I am meant for this.” He sat up completely and stuck out a hand, feeling ridiculous as he did so, for the nymph just stared at it a moment, before taking and entangling their fingers as he had before, thumb running over the backs of Caleb’s hands. It wasn’t a handshake, but it would do. “I am Caleb Widogast, and I am from Lohme, in Rügen, on the Jasmund Peninsula of Deutschland, and I am absolutely here to free you, Mister Mollymauk.”

The nymph’s laugh was like the chiming of low bells, and surprisingly, not quite beautiful as the rest of him. Strangely, Caleb found himself smiling at the knowledge, endeared.

“It’s Molly, Caleb Widogast of Lohme in Rügen of the Jasmund Peninsula, from Deutschland. Molly.” The nymph chuckled a little. “Molly to my friends. And something tells me that we’re going to be _excellent_ friends. And we’re in the Feywild, in my home. In my glade.”

“Molly…I haven’t gotten a last name out of you. Have you one?”

“Tealeaf…I…” For the first time, since parting the willow whips, Caleb saw Molly hesitate. “Bren gave me the name. I suppose, if you’re to help free me, you must know my story, as much of it, at least, as is mine to tell. And as much of it as I remember.”

“I would like that. I will tell you what I know, too, and perhaps we can make a complete story of it?” Caleb asked.

“Perhaps.”

The forlorn look didn’t fit on Molly’s beautiful face, and Caleb, without even thinking twice, reached a hand for Molly’s and drew it to his lips for a kiss. The moment he did, Caleb couldn’t help feeling stupid for it. Introducing himself like some fictitious knight in shining armor, kissing Molly’s hand, _frolicking in a fucking glade_ , with a man he knew only from dreams, while _in_ a dream.

It mightn’t even be real. Somehow, that only made it all the worse.

Coughing a bit to hide his embarrassment, Caleb let go Molly’s hand. “I apologize. That was-“

“-lovely of you.” Molly turned to face him. “I don’t mind at all. _Trust_ me.” A salacious smile replaced the seriousness of his once drawn brow. “I rather like kisses, and I already rather like you, which means kisses from you are even better.”

Caleb was already flushed, and he knew it, but, with Molly’s blunt words had him at _least_ red enough to match his hair.

“I don’t really know how long I’ve been here,” Molly began, brushing his hand over a few small flowers lazily. Caleb sat properly, leaning in to listen, rapt. “When Bren found me, I had been alone a long, long time, and before that, even longer. I’ve been here…longer than what memories I have. He brought tea…I’d never had tea before. I liked the leaves themselves better than the drink…”

Despite their opaque nature, Mollymauk’s eyes were somehow still extremely expressive, and Caleb could see from the minute twitch of Molly’s fine brows just how affected he was, how lost in the memories.

“Once, people would come and ask me for their futures, their fortunes. I have a little talent for it, I guess. But then, I think…well, I didn’t see anyone for really long time. Ages. And I do mean that literally. Time forgot me, Caleb, and I was alone. Until he found me.”

“Bren.”

“Yes, Bren.”

“I was here, like I always am. I was sitting on my branch in the tree, and then, I felt…I don’t know how to describe it. Bren understood – maybe you will – like I was falling through a soft cloud and into a pool of liquid glass, like I was mirrored to the other side, like I had moved, and the world around me moved, but yet, hadn’t moved. Like I was somewhere new, without ever having gone anywhere at all? And then, Bren was there. He came through the curtain of my tree, looking just as mystified as you did earlier today.”

Recalling the feeling from when he first woke to the glade, and the softly swaying willow, Caleb found that he did understand. He watched as Molly seemed to resurface, a ripple of emotion like the shadow of light on water crossing the lilac of his face, and wondered, for a moment, if he had been welcomed purely because the nymph had loved Bren, simply as a result of his deep, unending loneliness, or because he saw something in Caleb, something different. Something special.

A selfish piece of him wished for the latter, but the rational part of his mind saw that their immediate attraction, that Molly’s draw to and on him, could only be the result of his past life as Bren.

Suddenly angry, Caleb pulled back and stood, his expression dark. “I am not Bren.”

“No, you’re not. Bren’s life was dark and terrible and sad, and you do not seem any of those things.” Molly stood, too, as clouds rolled in, and lifted Caleb’s hand, bringing it to his chest. Caleb did not resist him, for all he told himself he should. “I want to know _you_. Bren is long dead, and I mourned him long ago. Please, don’t leave. I know you want to, and I wouldn’t blame you, the way I pounced right on you like that-“

“I wanted it. I still want it. Es ist total lächerlich! Complete ridiculous, Molly, but I feel like…Bren did not succeed. Bren _died_.

I am not him, you are right about that. His life is my nightmare.”

“I could be your dream.”

 Molly didn’t advance on him then, but watched him carefully, closely.

“I don’t want a dream,” Caleb

replied. “I want something real. I want to make you real.”

“Do you believe in fate?”

The change of gears threw Caleb off beat for a moment, but he gathered himself and took a moment to look – really look – at Mollymauk. Where before, gilded by dappled light, draped artfully where he sat in the tree, Molly had appeared more beauteous vision than reality, now, Caleb could see that there was more to him than just his handsome face and perfect form, more than the seductive looks and sensuous wiles he’d so put forth, reeling Caleb in like a fish on a hook. He hadn’t even struggled, and Caleb wondered, for a moment, what exactly had _happened_ to Bren Aldric Ermendrud that Mollymauk was so sure he had died, for all he had asked Caleb if he were Bren when first they met. All his common sense was fled until that moment, and, though it came rushing back, Caleb couldn’t help but berate himself. Like Merlin to Vivienne, or Odysseus to Circe, even Prince Ralph to the Lady of the Dry Tree, he had gone to Mollymauk a willing fool.

Briefly, he recalled the Irish tales of fae, and found himself glad that he’d not eaten or drank anything. But then, nothing had been offered. And it was a dream, after all.

“I…”

He looked to Molly, all such thoughts coursing through his head, and found that he could not fear the nymph, no matter the stores of tales within his head that counselled him against it. For all Mollymauk looked fair, there was never a tale where the deceiver looked akin to that thing which ought deceive. Even with spaded tail, curling horns, and wicked fangs, Mollymauk’s garnet eyes held no malice. They were even and fair. And waiting.

“Ja. I think…I…am a great lover of books,” Caleb began, settling himself. “And they have taught me many things, and sometimes those things are of aid to me, and other times they are not. Do I believe in fate? Yes. This…this is fate, I do believe.” If his voice wavered, if he was still trying to convince himself of the truth of those words, well, that was for him to know. “That I should be standing here beside you is no accident. My mind says not to trust you, but I do. For whatever reason, I do. I have Bren’s memories for a reason. I could be that man reincarnated, even without the benefit of his memories. I can only see one path. I am here to do what I said I would. I am here because I am fated to free you. So I will. Even if I asked if you wish to do harm to the world, you would not tell me the truth. So I will not ask that. Only…what else is it that you want of me? You need not seduce me to get it.”

No, for that was already more than secured.

But what was done was done.

Caleb’s heart had already wavered and fallen the first moment he’d seen Molly in the tree.

Mollymauk looked at him for a moment, the grey sky lending a deeper contrast to his unique skin tone, and then smirked, and with his blossoming amusement, the sun broke through just as quickly as it had gone away.

“Who says I wanted anything out of that beyond what it would have already gotten me?” Caleb’s cheeks heated again and for all the drear of their earlier conversation, Mollymauk threw back his head, curls shaking, the flowers that bedecked them quivering, the foxglove bells fairly ringing with the energy of it, and laughed, raucous and terrible, and so attractive unattractive, that Caleb had to stifle a snicker.

“Let’s sit, and I promise I won’t try to seduce you again unless you ask me to.” Molly said when he’d calmed himself down. “I’ve yet to finish my story, and then, unless I’m mistaken, you promised me your side of things as well.” He looked Caleb up and down unashamedly. “I want to know where in the world this ‘Germany’ is, so that I can understand why your clothes look like that.”

“You don’t get to talk,” Caleb shot back. “ _You_ are hardly wearing anything at all.”

“Ta.” Molly’s smile was small but immensely satisfied. “ _You_ noticed.”

Caleb hadn’t anything dignified with which to respond, so he simply joined Molly in sitting once again. He had to push up the sleeves of his shirt, so warm the sun had grown in light of Mollymauk’s renewed joy, and relished in feeling the contrast of the cool grass against his arms.

“Bren didn’t trust me either, but I was different then. Desperate and afraid. I knew only what I was and how I could get what I wanted. The people who used to come for a glimpse of their futures…they promised to free me and forgot about me, and I didn’t want to be forgotten again. At first…” he ducked his head, looking away almost shamefully, and then gave in and met Caleb’s gaze. “Let’s just say, you don’t have to be afraid. I tried that once with Bren and it worked…too well. Because I fell in love too. Played myself, wouldn’t you know it? You’re beautiful, very, _very_ beautiful, and I’m just as smitten now as I was the first time, trust me. And I’m sure I’ll be all the more when you share your side of things, darling. But truth be told, I didn’t know much about myself. Bren…provided me that information. Things that I…I don’t care to speak of them now. It’d ruin our beautiful day. But I will.” The entreaty in Molly’s voice set Caleb to concern. “Tell you, that is,” Molly stumbled over his words a bit. “If-if you like. Someday. Just…not today? Please, Caleb, will you allow me that much?”

“Of course. We have only just met.” He said it almost more to remind himself than Mollymauk, for it didn’t feel like only an hour or less. It felt days, ages almost. Forever, even. A thought occurred to him then, strange, considering he’d been overly concerned with it himself just a short while before, that to Molly, it must have seemed less a first meeting, and more the first in a long, long while, at least as far as appearance. “How…are you alright?” he asked, suddenly. “Seeing me, I mean, and knowing that I am not him? Does it…” he hesitated. “Does it bother you?”

“No. No, Caleb. It doesn’t bother me.” The fingers on the hand closest Caleb twitched and Caleb swallowed his automatic desire to reach for Mollymauk, regardless of all they’d just said.

“All it ensures is that I find you instantly attractive, darling. Now.” He settled in, shifting his legs to the side, and resting one elbow on his thigh, chin in hand that he might stare intently at Caleb. “Your turn.”

“Oh. Oh, well, I have been getting memories from Bren. I have…” Caleb thought to himself for a moment.

“More or less his whole life in my head now. I think when I was little, I also started to remember? I’d fallen from a tree…” He shook his head. “I had an accident when I was a little older than that, and I don’t remember much from before it. But when it started again – when the memories came back, oh, over a week ago now? – I remembered the first time they came too. My whole life, I should have been looking for you-”

“It wasn’t the right time, dear.” Everything about Molly in that moment was soft. The light on his face, the brush of his hair near his cheek, the patter of his tail in the grass, the flutter of his eyelashes… “Fate, remember? That accident, taking the memories away? It just wasn’t the right time. Maybe now is the right time.”

It felt like it was. It felt purposeful. Good.

A little like fate.

(Or a lot.)

“Now,” Molly continued, when he seemed satisfied that Caleb had considered all he’d said. “Tell me about _you_. I already know about Bren.”

“Oh.” Caleb paused, scratching his head for a moment, brushing the hair back out of his face, wishing that he’d managed a bun in his dream, but alas, it seemed his subconscious wanted his hair down. “Well, I am from Germany, as I already said. I am…I _was_ a student, studying at a university to be an archivist. I like books very much, as I already said. Ja. Um…”

“I’ve not heard of Germany, before this. Is Exandria much changed? Bren was from Zemni, and the others before that came from all over Wildemount, even Tal’Dorei-“

“Wo? Ah…where?” Caleb asked, confused.

“-You have the same accent, so I supposed you were from Zemni like Bren.” At the look on Caleb’s face, Molly stopped. “Are you not from Zemni?”

“I don’t know any of those places. I think – Molly, I think we come from very different places indeed. In my world, there is no such thing as past lives. And Bren’s magic? There is none of that where I am from either.”

At first, Molly looked confused. “But you’re _here_ , and you have his memories. How can there be no magic if that’s the case?” Fear shuddered like a passing glance over Molly’s features. “How will you free me, Caleb? Bren – he _needed_ magic to help me.”

“And he failed. You yourself said this was fate, also did you not?”

“Yes,” said Molly slowly, uncertain.

“Then trust that things will be different this time. I am very good at research. It is what I do. Between his memories and my abilities, I will figure something out. I _will_.” He did bridge the gap then, laying his hand over Molly’s where it was flexing, stranglehold on the poor grass. “Now, I think tales of my world will greatly interest you, for it is nothing like Bren’s. And nothing like anything you have ever known, Herr Mollymauk.”

“Oh?”

The tiny quaver to his voice was almost imperceptible, but Caleb caught it all the same, and mentally strove to redouble his efforts at distracting Molly from his fear.

“Oh, yes. Very much so.” Caleb grinned, mischievous. “Tell me the most amazing thing you can imagine that mankind can create.”

“Just mankind? Elves are far more creative than men. Comes with the territory, I suspect, you know, living longer. Or maybe it’s a matter of perspective.” Molly frowned. “I’ve lived a long time but the most I’ve created is new ways to say ‘you’re gorgeous’ and even then, I ran out eventually.”

“Ah.” It was a place to start.

“There are only humans in my world, Mollymauk. No elves. No…uh, what else is in this…Exandria?”

Molly only stared, wide and doe-eyed. “ _Only_ humans?”

“Ja. And animals and bugs and microbes, though I’m not sure you are aware of those, so please, just assume that what you have, I do not.”

“No elves?”

“No.”

“No…firbolgs?”

“Ah, nein.”

“Goblins? Orcs? Aasimar? Kenku?”

“Nein to all.”

“No…tieflings?”

Molly watched him shrewdly then, and Caleb furrowed his brow.

“Nein.”

“There’s _no one_ like me in your world?” he asked in disbelief.

“You mean with the horns and the tail and the lilac skin, red eyes? Nein. I assure you, there is _no_ one like you on my world. To me, you are absolutely unique.”

Molly’s chest puffed up and he sat a little straighter. “Do you _like_ my horns? My tail?”

Shrugging, inwardly pleased, Caleb replied, “I would like you with or without.”

“Oh,” Molly visibly deflated, before suddenly perking up again. “Wait, so you _do_ like me?”

Skeptically, Caleb smirked. “I thought I had already made that clear.”

At Caleb’s words, Molly absolutely preened, exactly like the peacock tattooed across his skin. “Yes, well, I do like hearing it, forgive me for saying.”

“I like you, Mollymauk,” Caleb said then, his utter seriousness surprising even himself. “I like you exactly as you are, though not because you are a, uh, tiefling. But because you are you.”

“Oh.” It was such a soft sound what fell from Molly’s lips, dropping soft as dew on daisies, that Caleb hardly heard it. “Oh, well. That’s…We’ve only just…Thank you.”

“Bitte.”

“What else is there for you to tell me?” Molly asked after giving himself a moment to compose. “Wait, you said to think of something unimaginable. Hmm. I guess…the most incredible thing?”

“Ja.”

“Something for people without magic to fly. Bren used to talk of that. I think it’s ridiculous. Why should anyone develop it? The people with the magic use it to make the people without fly if necessary, I imagine. Besides, how would it stay in the air without an enchantment anyways?”

Caleb smiled, feeling a little evil for his glee. “Such machines exist in my world. They are called airplanes. Using massive amounts of jet power and well-engineered aerodynamics, they fly thousands and thousands of feet above the air and the travel great distances in a matter of hours, sometimes carrying hundreds of passengers from place to place. You can have a meal on them. You can use a bathroom – ah that is something else… Never mind.”

Molly looked at Caleb half in quizzical disbelief, half with a modicum of concern. “You can bathe on them?” he asked finally, as if deciding to ignore all the words for which he likely lacked context.

“Ah, not really, I am afraid I’ve confused you by that. I will explain some other time. The idea is that you can fly around the world, from one continent to another in a matter of hours. So fast, that you can arrive _before_ you left, in a manner of speaking, that is.”

The ‘ _you’re crazy’_ look hadn’t left Molly’s face. “Next thing you’ll be telling me that pigs can fly of their own accord.”

“Ah!” Caleb chuckled. “No, but we do have that saying in my world, too, but no, I think that one shall always remain an impossibility.”

“For shame.” Molly smiled. “Your world’s not as grand as I imagined then. But it does have you, and that’s something. And a flying contraption big enough to bathe on. Incredible.”

Molly’s hand twitched, and it was then that Caleb noticed that they were still touching, and found that it felt natural. He didn’t move to change a thing.

“There is much that is different between our worlds, I think. But there is time, Molly. We have time.”

“I like the sound of that. Can you tell me more about you, then? I’d like to know.”

So Caleb told him. He told Molly of school, and of his family and friends, of Beau’s rough but good hearted nature, and Veth’s fierce, protective energy. Of his father’s quiet love and his mother’s gentle affection. Of school and his professors.

“- And there is also Frumpkin, who is my cat.”

“Oh! Bren had a cat named Frumpkin!”

By that time, Molly had lain back down in the grass again, flat on his stomach, chin propped by his hands, tail flicking about lazily, sometimes slow, sometimes quickly, especially when excited. At that moment, Caleb couldn’t help but be mesmerized by it, completely indicative as it was of Molly’s emotional state. It was almost as much of a giveaway as the weather, which he was now sure was absolutely tied to Molly’s changing moods.

“He did?” Caleb asked, almost as an afterthought. “That is…perhaps not so strange.” The more he thought about it… “I…ha! I must have named him for Bren’s cat! I do not remember the day I got Frumpkin. He was given to me before my accident, the one that took away the memories, so it would make sense, oder? That I, being young and excited about being Bren once, named my own cat for his?” Caleb laughed again. “Gott! This is…this is _incredible_. I-only one memory of my childhood came back, but I hope that I will have more. I wonder…”

“What?” Molly pushed himself up, gaze intent once more. “What, Caleb?”

“I wonder how much of who I am now was unknowingly influenced by those memories? What if…what if it was meant to be as it was then too, Molly? That I should learn just enough, only to lose that which instigated the learning, that I would spend the rest of my life interested in such things, so that, someday, I could be here, speaking with you, believing that all of this is real, that when I looked in the mirror and saw a different me, an impossible me, I didn’t turn away from it, and instead, ran towards you? What if everything, always, has been leading me to you, Mollymauk? What if?”

“I wonder if you knew me, then?” Molly asked, contemplatively. “I wonder if you saw me as a child. If you heard my name in his memories.”

“I must have, Molly. I feel like I have been in love with you half my life, and never knew it before now.”

The enormity of what he’d said impressed upon them both and they were silent for a good, long while before Molly shifted, the samite mantel sliding easy as water over his bare thighs, shushing through the grass, and the nymph was knelt beside Caleb.

“To feel love and to be in love are two different things.”

“I know.”

He did know. Too well. But Wolf’s face wouldn’t come to mind, blurred and hazed. Meaningless.

The hand on his moved to lift his chin until their eyes met. “I know your face better than my own,” Molly said, “but I don’t yet know your heart. If you’ll allow me, I’d like to try.”

It was crazy. Insane, even, but Caleb’s heart was pounding, still so slow even though he felt like it ought to be racing. Every time Molly touched him, it was like nothing he could remember with his mind, and yet, the muscle memory was there, as if only Molly had ever touched him, _should_ ever touch him, and his body, by conduit of his soul, knew it. It was as if his eyes were opened, as if he were seeing things he’d never been able to before, feeling more strongly that he had his whole life through.

 _You are crazy, you are crazy,_ _this is crazy,_ Caleb thought to himself, but he couldn’t help answering anyways. “If I asked you to tell me my fortune, would you tell me that I am in love with you?”

Molly’s eyes grew sad again, and the wind that blew was a little cooler than before. “If it’s me you love, I

wouldn’t be able to tell. I’ve tried, time and again, to divine my own future, and I’ve always found nothing. It’s why Bren died. We were too near. His future was masked to me and I couldn’t warn him. I’m sorry, Caleb. That is one thing I can’t do.”

He gasped a terrible laugh and tried to draw back from the mystic’s touch, but instead, despite his best intentions, only leaned in closer. “Of course. Of course it would be like that. That’s how the stories always go, isn’t it? I should know better.”

“Oh, Caleb.” Molly sighed, sliding his hand up to cup Caleb’s cheek, to rub his thumb through auburn scruff.

Instinctively, Caleb reached for Molly in return; his touch slid the gossamer robe from its precarious position, leaving bare Molly’s colourful shoulder for his hand to caress. “Did he tell you anything? Anything at all about your situation? About what he intended to try? Anything that might help me, or could possibly trigger a memory, something I may have remembered as a child that I have yet to remember again?” he asked, suddenly wild with desperation.

Molly only shook his beautiful head. “No. I’m sorry, Caleb. What little he spoke of was of magic, and you say you have none of that, and I barely understand the magic I’m capable of myself. I…” Straightening, with some measure of realization, Molly grew agitated.

“Once…yes, once he told me he didn’t think I’d always been bound here. I disagreed. I don’t have any memory of a place beyond me tree, beyond this glade, but Bren was certain that I didn’t begin here. I don’t want to end here, either. He was certain there was more, that I had a history from before ,where even my haziest of memories have their roots. But I don’t know where you’d even begin with that, Caleb. Without magic-“

Caleb’s hand moved to the column of Molly’s slender neck, fingers twining into silken palatinate hair. “Bren could not succeed with it. What is to say that I cannot succeed without it? You agreed it was fate. Don't you believe you own words?" _Hypocrite_ , Caleb’s subconscious whispered, but he didn’t retract his words.

"I've been alone a long time," Molly repeated and Caleb finally listened instead of just hearing.

"Oh." Such a small word for such a profoundly simply realization. Mollymauk, all smiles and simpers and smirks, was not just desperate, not just melancholy.

Mollymauk was afraid. Afraid and so, so terribly alone.

"I didn't… Forgive me, this is...I am not…" Caleb spluttered, looking for something to say that could possibly sum up everything he was thinking and feeling. "Forgive me."

"There's nothing to forgive, Caleb." He looked exquisite, as wild and as delicate as the flowers in which he was bedecked. They were close again; a simple movement would have been enough to draw them near to kissing, but neither so much as flinched. The air was thick between them.

"I meant what I said before," Caleb murmured. "I know you. My heart remembers what my mind cannot. I have been in love with you half my life. Fate has decreed it, and I'm not even angry. Why be upset at fate when you are happy with what it has given you?" Silken tendrils brushed against his hand and Caleb sighed at the touch, a helpless victim of his hopelessness.

“You’re happy?” Molly asked, soft urgency colouring his voice. “You’re happy with all of this? With me? Despite the fact that it has completely upturned your life?”

“Yes,” Caleb said, definitively, finally. “Yes, I am.”

The same sly smile Caleb saw before slid across Molly’s mouth, lips twitching upward, and Caleb imagined the feel of those lips on own, on his skin, at his temple…

“How did it happen?” Molly asked, breaking Caleb’s daydream. “You said the first time you got the memories, you fell from a tree. What happened to bring them back again?”

“Oh, well, I was hit by a car while riding my bike.”

Molly blinked absently. “Gibberish, dear. It’s all gibberish.”

Wincing, Caleb doubled back. “Ja, right. A bike, or a bicycle, is a mode of transportation with only two wheels. You sit on the seat and hold the handle bars and when you pedal, it is connected to the wheels and that propels it forward.”

“I’m going to pretend I understood most of that. Please, continue.”

“A car is a mode of transportation with four wheels, like a cart, ja? But self-propelled instead of via use of livestock. A driver directs where it goes. They are quite large and carry anywhere from two to eight people, depending on which type a person has.” He paused a moment, considering. “Bikes generally are for one person. They are not enclosed, but a car is. The car hit me while I was on my bike. We were both moving and I was thrown from the bike and hit my head on stone wall. And also the stone walkway of the ground.”

Eyes wide, Molly pulled Caleb to him, pushing aside his hair to look for any sign of injury. “You were hurt! That’s how all of this came about? Caleb, that’s-“

“Molly, Molly, I am alright.”

“Are you?” Molly pulled back, taking Caleb’s face in his hands and looking him in the eye.

“Ja.” Saying it to Molly, it didn’t feel like a lie. “Everything else that has come has been only because of the memories, and not because I hit my head. It is nothing to do with you, and all to do with Bren instead,” Caleb reassured him, noticing the spark of fear and guilt lessen. “I am fine.”

“These…cars…do they hit people often?”

“Unfortunately, ja, but that is dependent on the person driving them. They are not of their own at fault, Molly.” Caleb had to resist the urge to snicker. “Cars cannot hurt you by themselves, but people driving cars distractedly can.”

“Do they hit other things besides bikes?”

“Oh, ja, they hit other cars, mostly. And trees, often times.” That was apparently the wrong choice of words, because Molly sat back rather suddenly, his face a pale shade of lavender as the sun faded a bit behind a soft cloud.

“If I am ever in your world, I’ll never get in a car.”

“You say that now.”

“Never. You were hurt by one. I refuse.”

“Molly,” Caleb cajoled. “Even I drive cars. It is nothing to be afraid of. Only reasonably aware.”

Molly still looked mistrustful, but at least he relaxed and Caleb wiped the amusement from his face. “Really, truly, please don’t worry. I would not lie to you. I swear, I will never lie to you. About this or about anything. Ever.”

“Ever?” Molly asked after a moment’s hesitant silence, but there was a familiar mischievous quality to his tone that caused Caleb to narrow his eyes.

“Ever.”

“Then, tell me right honest – you’ve been trying not to look at me this whole time.” The lilt in his voice was more pronounced than usual and his brows arched superciliously. Despite knowing that it was impossible to counteract the rapidly spreading flush on his cheeks, Caleb swallowed. “I am looking at you now, Mollymauk.” It wasn’t a lie, not even a little bit.

“You know exactly what I mean, dear, but I won’t press you. I promised I wouldn’t and here I am, breaking that promise when you’ve just sworn to keep one of your own.”

“Nein, you said you wouldn’t seduce me again unless I wanted it. What is to say I do not?” There was an intake of breath and it took Caleb far, far too long to realize it was his own and not Molly's.

"I-"

"What do you want, Caleb? Tell me what you want."

_What do you want, Caleb?_

He wanted to not wonder anymore.

He wanted the memories that belonged to Bren and he wanted the memories that belonged to himself. He want to taste Mollymauk's sighs in his mouth and feel Mollymauk's hands on his waist. He wanted to hold Mollymauk's hand in his own, draw him out beyond the willow whips, show him the world, bring him home to his -

Airways choking off, Caleb grabbed Molly's hand where it lay in the grass between them.

"I want…"

"Tell, me, Caleb, tell me…"

"Molly, what happens to you when I wake up?" Caleb asked, changing the subject abruptly.

"Oh. Well." He frowned. "I'll probably wake up, too…"

"But we are in your glade, at the same time, ja?"

"Yes, we are. And every moment I spend with you is a dream for me, too." Molly's brow furrowed.

"Why are you asking me this now?"

"What I want," Caleb said, looking up to him almost shyly, "is to stay with you in this dream forever."

“But-

“Because I am afraid that if I wake up, it may all _really_ be just a dream, and I will never see you again.” But, by _Gott_ , he sounded pathetic even to his own ears. Some dumbfounded Shakespearean idiot lover, star-crossed and bound for tragedy. “Or that I will never know if it was real or not, if I never find a way to free you from this place, and I will wonder my whole life long if I lost my only chance.”

“You’re an idiot,” Molly said, and with a wild look, kissed him. Molly’s hand wrapped around the base of his neck, pulling him in nearer, but Caleb didn’t bother to resist, happy enough to let the nymph have his way with him, kissing back first with timidity, and then equal. Soft lips brushed his passionately, their faces angled, though it didn’t save the occasional bump of noses as they learned to map one another, and keep an even pace. Caleb let himself fall back into the grass, let Molly push him down, let Molly come over him, drape himself over Caleb like a lounging cat, the gossamer of his mantel falling like a gauzy curtain around them, closing them off from the world. Caleb let Molly press kiss after kiss to his mouth, too, and slide his tongue along the seam of Caleb’s lips. And when passion took them, Caleb let Molly press his thigh again between his legs, and let Molly’s hands trail down and over his chest, skimming, ghosting, hovering in devoted worship, seeking further still to hold, to claim.

“ _Bitte-_ “ Caleb managed to sigh the word, even though he didn’t know what exactly it was he was asking for. Just _more._

More.

More kisses, more air. More contact, more space.

More Mollymauk.

Dazed, Caleb finally opened his eyes, as they broke for breathe, instinctively, though the dream didn’t seem to restrict it. Samite billowed around them, blanketing off the blue sky, framing the violet curls of Molly’s hair, Molly, who was gazing down at him. Like a man seeing true for the first time, Caleb reached out a hand to press his palm to Molly’s cheek, to rub his thumb against the soft seeming feathers tattooed there, but the moment his hand should have found purchase, like oil-smoke, the dream – and Molly with it – drifted away into black.

Gasping, he shot upwards to sitting.

Alone in his bed. Alone in his room. Alone in his home.

Alone and awake.

Cursing, half to tears at the suddenness of his solitude, Caleb fairly threw the covers off of himself and rushed out of the room, stumbling over the doorway in his haste to get outside. The night was chill and mist, and his breath hung in the air, but the moon was vibrant; it lit the way as he ran barefoot through the dewed grass to the foot of the oak tree, heedless of the piercing, damp cold.

It wasn’t difficult for him to grab that low hanging branch, now, tall as he was at twenty-two, and Caleb hoisted himself up, hand over hand, straining his eyes in the dark, glassesless, to find the place where Veth once carved their names, anything to indicate that it wasn’t only a dream, anything to reassure him. Heart pounding in his ears, Caleb climbed higher, almost carelessly so. Nothing. There was nothing. He swore again, and shut his eyes, allowing the memory to fill him completely as he reached, mirroring his past self, for the branch above his head, and then another and another, his grip closing around them easily, his footing blessedly stable. Then, in his mind’s eye, he could see Veth, sitting on a large branch, could see her hand reaching out with the knife, pressing into the bark –

All at once, his hand connected with the tree, and he rubbed blindly at its rough surface. There, beneath his fingers, was the indented mark of their names. Caleb opened his eyes. Through the filtered silver glow, he could see the shadow carvings, scarred and roughened by time and healing, and laughed, manically, with relief.

In the same instant, the memories beset him, falling one by one, upwards into his brain, leaves once dropped from old branches, shooting back upwards and reattaching to that limb which once they called home, slotting into place seamlessly, as though they had never been gone and Caleb found that his own memory, though not Bren’s, was complete once more.

“Molly!” Caleb called out into the night. “Mollymauk! It’s real, Molly! I remember! It’s really real!” Tears – stupid and hot and burning – streamed down his cheeks as he laughed, the laugh of the mad and the free. “I’ll find you. I swear to God I’ll find a way to free you! I can do it! I started research! I know now, I know I can, I know that it is possible. Bren tried it, and now, I will build on it. I will succeed!” His voice rang into the night, unanswered.

“I will. I will,” he repeated, softer now, the elation simmering to determination. “I will find you, Mollymauk. I will find you and free you, and then…” The wind swallowed his words, and he could smell _jasmin_ in the air.

Fate.

An hour passed, maybe two, before Caleb climbed down from the tree and went back inside. He flicked on the bedside lamp and went to the shelf where he’d already begun to reorganize his books, and pulled the slim, blue bound volume from between a few fat textbooks. He flipped through it then, hasty, nervous, elated, his eyes moving to and fro with speed as he parsed the pages, until he found the selection he was searching for, paling as he read:

_And then she followed Merlin all the way,_

_Even to the wild woods of Broceliande._

_For Merlin once had told her of a charm,_

_The which if any wrought on anyone_

_With woven paces and with waving arms,_

_The man so wrought on ever seemed to lie_

_Closed in the four walls of a hollow tower,_

_From which was no escape for evermore;_

_And none could find that man for evermore,_

_Nor could he see but him who wrought the charm_

_Coming and going, and he lay as dead_

_And lost to life and use and name and fame._

_And Vivienne ever sought to work the charm_

_Upon the great Enchanter of the Time,_

_As fancying that her glory would be great_

_According to his greatness whom she quenched._


	5. 4.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry this took /a whole extra week/ but as many of you may know, I am a teacher, and I am nearing the end of the school year, which means I am very busy. Also, since I don't upload chapters until the next chapter is complete, as it is * warning for next week * VERY NSFW, I couldn't work on it at all at work after a certain point. 
> 
> Regardless, it is finished now. 
> 
> My update schedule will no longer be weekly, either, but rather a week and a half to two weeks, as I have now the inimitable, incredible @PandaMeNope (https://twitter.com/pandamenope) working on art for this story, future chapters and past chapters included. You will get to see her work in this chapter already! I'm thrilled that panda wanted to do this and I hope you enjoy the beautiful art as much as I do. 
> 
> Thank you ever so much to Panda and to Senor_Sparklefingers, who is my ever faithful beta. And thank you to all of you for bearing with me, even with this unscheduled mini-hiatus. I assure you, as with all the other stories in this series, it will be completed.
> 
> Note: Though Molly appears naked in this chapter, there is nothing sexual that occurs.

4.

“I am sure there is Magic in everything, only we have not sense enough to get hold of it and make it do things for us”

~ Frances Hodgson Burnett , The Secret Garden

“All this he saw, for one moment breathless and intense, vivid on the morning sky; and still, as he looked, he lived; and still, as he lived, he wondered.”

~ Kenneth Grahame, The Wind in the Willows

 

After his joyous proclamation in the tree early that morning, Caleb had gone back to bed, only to wake in a beam of sunshine with his memories a murky mess once more, much like a good dream disappeared upon waking. At least he knew they were there, and could be woken. It was only a matter of figuring out _how._ Frustrated, Caleb poured through book after book that day, reading ferociously despite knowing that it wouldn’t help, that it would do no good. After all, what help would his precious, beloved books be when Molly was from another world where magic was real and none of his books had been written by anyone who knew anything about Molly’s world at all? For all he could ascertain, he was the only one who knew of… _Exandria_ at all. When books proved fruitless, he’d dug out his laptop, trying every variant spelling imaginable of the place names that Molly had given him, but no book, no blog, no film contained a one of them. However he’d come to be the reincarnation of a man from another world, it seemed that he was truly the only one, or – had there ever been others – no one was confident enough to write of it.

It was getting on midmorning when a knock sounded at his door.

“Caleb? Schatz?”

“Ja, Mutti?” he said, making to close the computer, only to be met by Frumpkin’s teeth, as his cat rubbed and gnawed along the top corner. “Ah, weg mit dir, Frumpkin, go on!”

Caleb shut the laptop as Frumpkin hopped from the desk. “Come in, Mutti.”

“You’re up!”

Una shouldered open the door, stepping in, a tea tray in hands. “Oh!” she exclaimed, seeing his sleep pants, hems still damp, on the floor. “Caleb, what have you been up to? You shouldn’t have been out of bed! Do you know what happened? Do you remember anything?”

“Uhm…” Caleb pushed back his messing hair, unwinding the leather cord from around his wrist to put it up. “I was hiking…I remember something about… Finnish tourists?”

“Oh, mein Schatz…” Una placed a hand on his cheek, and then switched to pressing the back of her hand on his forehead. “What were you doing outside? And don’t lie to me.”

It was no use. He shrugged, half laughing to himself from the absurdity of what he was about to say. “I climbed a tree. I woke up and I needed to climb a tree. So I did.”

The look on Una’s face was incredible. “You have no sense in your head. I love you, but I don’t know sometimes, Caleb, liebe. I don’t know. Here.” She set down the tray. “It’s _jasmin_. Drink up. And have a croissant. You don’t eat enough. You are so slim! I feed you and feed you and you’re always like a noodle.”

“I climbed a tree, Mama, I am not a noodle.”

“Doch. You are. Don’t argue with me, I birthed you.”

Caleb hid his face, grinning widely. “Ja, Mutti. I will eat it.”

Not trusting him to himself, Una crossed her arm and stood, watching as he took a few bites of the croissant. “Now,” she said. “Tell me what this is all about. This, climbing trees in the middle of the night. What if you blanked out, like yesterday? What if you feel out of the tree again?”

She paused for a moment, as if considering something. “Maybe that isn’t a bad idea. Maybe if you get another good knock, like last time, everything will go back to normal.”

It was so offhand, he almost missed it. Stunned, Caleb dropped the croissant to the tray. It was a good thing he wasn’t holding the tea. “Was? What did you say?”

His mother blanched. “Oh. Well, I-“

To Una’s apparent relief, and Caleb’s chagrin, the phone rang. He picked it up and saw on the screen, a picture of himself and Veth, both smiling widely. It was from the day of her wedding, and usually, it made Caleb smile, but his mother’s words were too distracting.

“It is Veth. I have to answer or she will have a heart attack in my general direction.” Normally, Una would have smiled at such a comment, or made some sort of remark, but she didn’t, pale and thin lipped.

“Hallo, liebste. Wie geht’s?”

_“Caleb! You can’t die! We need to talk!”_

“I am not going to die. I am just fine. I climbed a tree this morning even, how about that?” He hoped she’d get the message.

_“I’m going to come over and we can talk. Maybe take a walk? Maybe to that tree, okay? I’m sorry about yesterday. I wasn’t feeling well. I’m…better today.”_

It wasn’t too difficult to imagine how put out she’d been when he wasn’t there after she’d returned to the table the day before. Veth had always been the truest friend he had. For a moment, he imagined Veth and Beau meeting and had to snicker at the combined levels of fierce protectiveness such a duo would produce.

“Ja, that sounds just fine. I’m glad you are feeling better. I am too. Can you come soon, though? Or are you opening the shop today?”

_“No, no, Yeza can handle it. I’ll pop over in a bit. Should I bring anything?”_

“Just yourself. I’ve really missed you a lot, you know.” It wasn’t a lie. It was so much a truth, more than Caleb wanted to admit. Even before the accident, he’d been missing her more than the usual. Since childhood, they’d been like extra limbs to one another. The longest they’d ever spent apart before he left for University had been her trip to Italien when she’d met Yeza. Just a few months had passed then, but it was still nearly impossible for the two of them to go more than at least three hours without some manner of contact; considering how long they’d lived down the street from one another, that was usually in person. His decision to go to Uni had challenged that, but they’d found a way to survive around the constraints of space.  Sometimes, she just sent him photos of herself making silly faces, or of Yeza doing something, usually with a caption extolling his intellect. Occasionally, he’d get some pictures of a new necklace she’d bought or some earrings. Or emojis. Strings of them with meaning that were beyond his capability to understand. Beau was usually a reliable translator. Other times, Caleb would send little quotes he found while working, or more commonly, pictures of flowers and trees. Once, he’d even sent her, as a middle man of sorts, a collection of strange illuminations Beau had found in one of the texts she was studying. Most of them contained dicks.

(Veth called him immediately after, laughing so hard she was crying and Caleb couldn’t understand a word she said and then she abruptly hung up. It had been a good day, but he’d also missed her all the more for it).

_“Alright. I’ll see you soon. We’ll talk. I promise we’ll talk, Cay. I love you.”_

“Ich liebe dich auch. Tschüß.”

_“Tschüß!”_

The moment the phone was hung up, Caleb looked to his mother who still hadn’t gone out of the room. She watched him only bemusedly. “Oh, Caleb. What are we to do with you?”

“Mama,” he said, softly, questioning, “What are you not telling me?”

Pursing her lips, Una cupped his cheek with her hand. “You should shave, liebling.”

“Bitte, Mama.”

Her lips twitched and her eye shone with bright sadness. “Not today, please, love. Another day. Any other day. Just…let me have you home and happy for a little?”

Caleb stood, leaned in to kiss her cheek. “But there is something, ja?”

“Ja. And I will tell you but…not today, not today.”

Rubbing a hand over his cheek, Caleb smiled, and found that it wasn’t even forced. “You really think I should shave, Mutti?”

She smoothed her hand over his shoulder. “It’s in now, is that it? Is that what all the young people like now, a beard?”

“When you were dating Vati it was a mustache, ja? And now it is beards. But you really think?”

Una smiled. “Maybe. Think about it a bit. It can always grow back. And fast.”

“Danke, Mutti.”

“Now,” she said, “drink your tea and straighten up, before Veth gets here. Being ill is no good excuse.”

“I am not ill Mutti,” Caleb retorted. The twinkle in her eye was back and he knew that she’d gotten what she wanted from him in that moment.

“Nein? Then clean up. Ich liebe dich.”

“I love you, too.”

With that, she went out the door, leaving him to his breakfast.

Leisurely he ate and sipped his tea before straightening up. Veth still hadn’t arrived – he imagined she was eating her own breakfast – so he went to the bathroom and looked into the mirror. Bren had had a beard, he remembered himself of the fact, softly considering his countenance.

“What would Molly think?” he asked himself, appraising his features. Beneath his ruddy beard, Caleb knew that he hid away high cheekbones and a rather well defined chin. He’d look different than Bren should he shave, that was certain. Never once had he seen Bren go without facial hair in his adult years, and it made sense that Molly probably had never seen him without it. Nervously, he lifted the razor.

If Mollymauk truly loved him…

Mind made up, Caleb set about at shaving.

 

Caleb was sitting at the chair by his window, halfway through rereading Taran Wanderer when Veth burst through his door. She’d never bothered with knocking; they’d been so close as children that they’d hardly bothered with such things, and he rarely blushed when she traipsed in on him, flopping down on his bed, laying back to look up at the ceiling, and talking of whatever nonsense was on her brain, even while he was still pulling on clothes. That had been the way of their lives through the upper grades much on that way up until Abitur.

Such was her way that late morning, and, hearing her flop down across the mattress. “You’re looking better, but I feel green. Ugh.”

“I’m sorry to hear it. But you are better than yesterday?” He noted the page number in his head and set down the book.

“Yeah, I am. I’m great even if I feel ugh, I promise. How’re you? You shaved! I like it.” Veth sat up from the bed, smiling toothily at him. “Trying to impress someone or did your Mom say something?”

“Oh, ah,” Caleb hedged, worrying his lip a bit as he considered what to say. “A little of both. Actually that is sort of what I wanted to talk to you about, among other things.”

She looked at him straight on. “You want to talk to me about how your mom wants you to shave?”

“Nein, Veth, komm doch.” He rolled his eyes. “You are ridiculous.”

“Well, what then?”

“I want to talk to you about…ah…someone. That I like.”

“Ahhhh.” Veth pushed herself up and off the bed. “You said you climbed a tree this morning?”

“Ja.”

“Well, I’m not quite up for climbing today, myself, but maybe we should walk and talk? Sit beneath our tree for old time’s sake? There’s more to this than you with your eye on someone, right? About…about your memories?”

Caleb swallowed. “Ja. That’s right.”

Together they left the house.

The sun had mostly come to dry the damp grass, and not even the new budded spring flowers showed signs of glossy dew. In the morning glow, the world was much changed from Caleb’s nighttime escapade. Where he’d left footprints the night prior, there was now no evidence he’d been there at all. The silence was gentle and easy; this was Veth. Veth who had loved and adored him as long as he was able to remember, and Caleb knew that, no matter what, she’d hear him out. There was nothing to fear from her: no judgement, no harsh words, no disbelieving looks. Although, there was sure to be teasing when he finally came to speak of Mollymauk.

Self-conscious, Caleb rubbed his newly smooth jaw. He seemed rather younger than he liked, especially after going so long the last few years with such substantial facial hair, but there was a leanness to his face that only came with age which he’d failed to notice before, and it looked just a bit rakish. That, Caleb hoped, Molly would appreciate.

In the least, it certainly served to distinguish him from the man who shared his features.

“So,” Veth said finally, when they came to sit beneath the tree. She fidgeted a little, as, in the shade, it was still a bit damp. Moving herself to a drier patch, Veth planted her hands on his, drawing them into her lap. “Are we starting with your love life or other things?”

“Ah, they are related, but, other things, I should think, will make him make more sense.”

“Ohhh, _him_ , alright. Go on. I’ll listen, I promise. Just a few interludes here or there. Three comments. No! Four. Give me four interruptions.”

“Alright. Four comments,” he shook his head in fond exasperation. “One comment per interruption and you can say the rest of your piece when I am through. Agreed?”

“Yeah, agreed.”

“Okay.” Caleb took a great, deep breath. “I asked you about the time before I can remember because, ever since got hit, I have _begun_ to remember, and not just that moment. But other moments. And I think I have it all, now, and it feels very real and very complete.”

Veth’s eyes widened. “Oh. Oh. Alright. What sort of things have you all remembered?”

“Well, that’s just the thing of it, I want to be sure that I am not making things up. I want you to be honest with me, not just confirm my bias, ja? So I want to know for sure that what I am saying, what I remember, really happened.”

“I swear Caleb, I will not lie to you.”

Grinning devilishly, Caleb leaned in. “That is two of your unprompted comments, Nottchen.”

“Ohhhh, fuck you!”

“Three.”

Veth only glowered and waved her hand as if to say ‘well, go on then’.

“I told you about this.” He gestured to the giant oak above them. “About falling from it, how we talked about carving our names. That is why I climbed the tree this morning. To find them. I…I was a little worried, you see, that I was maybe a crazy bird, you know? But it was there, and I need to know that I’m not.” Caleb paused, considering what to say. “After that day, when I feel from the tree, did I…start talking about another person. About how I had-“

“-been another person. Yeah. You did.” Veth confirmed. “Bren. It’s why I gave you the look the other night. I wasn’t sure…”

Caleb felt himself settle, a shiver down his spine at the sound of his past-self’s name on Veth’s present day lips. “Right. I saw myself in the mirror, after the car hit me, and yet it wasn’t myself. I was me, but I was long, long ago, in a place I’ve never been, in clothes I’ve never worn. I was…I was _working magic_. Veth! It is…it is too incredible and terrifying to express. I don’t know…,” he huffed a breathy laugh. “All of my episodes have been memories. I think my brain is trying to, er, accommodate the onslaught? I guess? So, not only have I begun to remember his life, but also everything I lost after I got hit by the bike when we were little, too. It’s all coming back to me.” Veth opened her mouth, but Caleb cut her off harshly with a hand over her lips. “Don’t you dare start singing.”

“What’s wrong with Celine Dion, Caleb? What did she ever do to you?” Veth pouted as he drew his hand away.

“Basta. Can we focus please?”

“Oh, whatever. Yeah. Keep going, I’m struggling to hold everything in here and I _really_ want to know how your mysterious _him_ fits into all of this.”

“Well, I want to know, do you believe me? Did you believe me then? I don’t have all of that back yet, my own memories, I mean. I have Bren’s though. I just…want to know that I am not totally off my rocker.”

Veth squeezed his hands tightly. “You’re not. Promise. You, well, you told me all about it. Have you got paper and a pencil? You’ve always got some. Give it to me. I’m gonna write something down and then I’m going to ask you a question and you can give the answer and then you’ll see what I wrote and it’ll prove it to you, okay? I know you’d believe me if I told you, but brains are weird like that, and I just want to take care of you.”

Groaning good-naturedly, Caleb pulled a slip of paper from his pocket, and a little pen. “Here. Don’t give me that look.”

Immediately, Veth stuck out her tongue. “I’ll give you whatever look I want to. Now hand it over already, Cay.”

She tore the paper and pen from his hands with a playful smirk, which he returned before looking away, into the distance, where the sun crested over the shrubs and tree line, sending a golden shot of light through the verdant greenery.

“Alright. I’m ready.” Veth broke him from his contemplation.

“So, ask me then.”

“What happened to Bren’s parents?”

The moment the words fell from her mouth, Caleb knew he wouldn’t have needed to see the paper. He blanched, swallowed hard, and Veth bit her lip. When Caleb shuddered, she pushed herself up from the grass and flung her arms around him.

“Oh, oh, Caleb...”

“He…he…”

“You don’t have to say it,” she reassured him, petting at his hair. “It’s okay, you don’t have to. You don’t have to. It wasn’t you, Cay. It wasn’t you.”

The paper lay crumpled on the ground beside them and Caleb reached for it, even though his eyes were blurry from tears, and his shirt sleeve was rapidly dampening from Veth’s own. With one hand, he managed to flatten it out.

_Bren burned his parents alive._

She knew. Veth knew. If she knew this, she absolutely must have known everything. It had all happened before. It was real. He wasn’t crazy. A third of Caleb felt extreme relief, another third astonishment that she’d managed to keep it all hidden from him for so many years. And the last part could do nothing but weep as she soothed him.

Eventually, dreading the answer almost as much as not knowing, Caleb pulled away, catching Veth’s gaze, which was red and puffy.

“I may still be missing a few things here or there, but I feel like most of it is back. My parents…do they, _did_ they…”

“Yes.” Veth sniffed, nodding. “Yes. That’s why I was hesitant. But they don’t know everything. Not like I do. I’ll tell you whatever you want, Caleb. All you have to do is ask.”

“But,” he shook his head in disbelief. “You… believed me? All this time, you have always believed me?”

“Oh, Cay. Of course I did. It’s you. If you told me it was real, of course I was going to believe you!”  


 

Holding one another’s arms, Caleb and Veth calmed themselves before either attempted to speak again.

“And I never spoke of a Mollymauk?” Caleb asked, wiping is eyes with the back of his hand. Veth was still teary, dabbing at her cheeks with her long, olive green sweater sleeve.

“Mollymauk?” She looked at him quizzically. “No Mollymauk. You used to talk about a hidden glade that Bren knew of. You were certain that you were meant to find that glade.” Shaking her head, Veth settle back into her spot against the tree trunk. “You said that there was something there…something that needed freeing. You called it your ‘quest’. ‘Bren’s quest’. Said you were meant to finish what he started. I asked you once what it was that needed freeing but you wouldn’t say. That was the only thing you were ever close lipped about. The rest, well…we used to play at it, you know,” Veth’s eyes glowed with the golden light of nostalgia. “Being a part of that world. You drew whole maps! It was incredible. We had such fun, Cay.”

Caleb tried to smile, but whatever expression made it to his face was weak at best, and tight lipped. She could reminisce so brightly on those special times they had once shared, while for him they were still fuzzy, only solidifying as her words found place in his mind. His memory was perfect in every way save that one. It left a bitter taste in his mouth, but he couldn’t stand to be upset with Veth. The night before had been altogether too much like a dream; the memories had felt so clear then, so real, and he determined that, next time, he would write down everything he remembered before it grew too faint to recall again. Caleb took another look at Veth, determined not to let his low mood show.

Ever since he’d arrived home, he could see that she was fairly glowing, thriving and happy in her life with Yeza, and he detested the idea that he should so often be cause to disrupt it. But Veth, in all their time together, never once begrudged him his melancholy tendencies. Their friendship was stronger than all that.

In the end, he pushed away the bitterness, instead flopping backwards in the grass, feeling it tickle the newly revealed skin of his cheeks.

“Mollymauk is in the glade. That is what I didn’t tell you about. He’s…”

“Ohhh, is this _him_?”

Her teasing tone was enough to conjure the vision of Veth’s face to Caleb’s mind. He closed his eyes letting the sun warm his face, leaving his eyelids to succumb to transparency, following the winding pathways of veins between layers of flesh as his aimless mind drew on that eidetic memory to piece together the exact recreation of the glade, and within it, Mollymauk.

“Ja, Veth. It’s him. Bren was in love with him. Bren died for him, trying to save him, I think. The last memory I have of his is being chased down on the way there.”

“Well, at least you shouldn’t have to worry about that this time. What’s he like then? How’s he trapped? Is he _handsome???”_

Caleb’s mood shifted and a smile broke across his face, bright like the anticipation of dawn. “He is. He is very handsome. Gorgeous. Veth?”

“Yeah, Cay?”

He opened his eyes and sat abruptly. “I think I am in love with him. I feel…I _know_ him. Is that ridiculous? Bren knew him, and loved him, and I think…well, I think maybe I have always loved him, since before I can remember…” he laughed airily. “It’s stupid. I know-“

“It’s not.”

So brusque was her tone that Caleb instantly looked up to see Veth toying with her wedding ring.

“It’s not stupid. I knew I wanted a man like Yeza since _forever_ . And when I found him, I just…knew. Caleb, you never said a word to me about what was in that glade. Like you wanted to keep it for yourself, like it was special. Sacred…I don’t know. Love is…love _is_ sacred. It’s the most precious thing you can have. And I don’t just meant romantic love.” She paused. “We love each other, right, Caleb?”

“Of course. Of course, I love you. And you love me.”

“And that’s special too, right? I don’t have this sort of love with anyone else. I have other friends and so do you, but we’re _special_ . I could never have what we have with anyone else. It’s ours. And I don’t want anyone to be encroaching on it, you know?” Veth shifted, suddenly looking a bit uneasy. “To be honest, I was…well, it was hard when you left for Uni without me. We’d done everything together. And then, I had to think about how you must have felt when I went on exchange and you didn’t. And even though sometimes I hate this Beauregard because I feel like she’s taking my place, like she’s encroaching, I know that it’s different. That she _can’t_ encroach, because what you have with her is special and unique too, just like what we have is special.”

“Veth-“

“Nope. It’s my turn to finish now,” said Veth gently, cutting him off. “Caleb, if you feel it that deep, that sure, it’s got to be real. You don’t make up feeling that way. We both know that. We both know what puppy love is like. We’ve been through it.”

“Wolf,” Caleb rolled his eyes. “I know.”

“So the love can be real, even if you’re not sure why yet, but that connection? I believe you if you say it’s there. Absolutely. Without question. Now, all you have to do is find him and make sure that he feels the same. Make sure that he’s not just in it for…well…Bren.”

“He’s not. I was worried about that, but the things he said, the way he spoke…it has been a long time for him, make no mistake.”

“Like he’s older- wait. What?”

“What?”

“You’ve talked to him?”

“Ja. In my dreams. I saw him only last night. If felt like hours. It was real, I swear it was real! Is that not something that-”

“It’s alright.” If Veth disbelieved him, Caleb wouldn’t have been able to tell, because she kept a very straight face, impassive and blank, gesturing for him to go on.

“I think…” Caleb picked up carefully. “I think it has been a longer time since Bren for him than I even thought to start. I think…ages, Veth. Maybe hundreds of them. Who knows how time runs there, but he is lonely, and he made it very clear to me that he doesn’t…expect me to be Bren. But…there is that attraction. And I can’t help but worry that I’m not-“

“-really what he wants?”

Caleb hung his head. “Ja.”  

“Well, that’s something that the two of you will have to figure out together, then. But, for now, tell me about him, please? It’s been too long since you had a _boyfriend_ . I want to hear everything. What’s he _look_ like? What’s he sound like?”

Furiously, Caleb blushed. “He’s ah…well, this is a world with magic. And in such a world, I suppose it is not beyond belief that not all people are, ah…”

“Human? Oh, Caleb is he an elf?”

“Nein! No, he’s…he tells me he is called a tiefling. He has purple skin and a spaded tail. Ram’s horns. And eyes like the most perfect garnets…I know it sounds-“

“Wonderful. I’m sure he’s wonderful, Caleb. I don’t care what he looks like, as long as he’s kind to your heart. Promise me you won’t let him jerk you around.”

 _Not like Wolf_.

It went unsaid, but Caleb heard it anyways.

“I won’t. I swear I won’t. He was very forward, but also very polite and forthcoming about everything and he answered all of my questions.”

“If he does, I’ll find my way into your dreams and strangle him myself. You hear me?” Veth said, voice serious but eye glimmering with good humour. Even so, he knew she meant it.

“I hear you. I will be sure to tell him when I… Oh.” The realization hit him like an oncoming train.

“Caleb? Are you okay? What is it?”

“What if I do not visit him again? What if I go to sleep and we don’t meet in dreams?”

“Don’tstartsinging!” Veth rushed out, illiciting a broken laugh, despite the agony of Caleb’s newest nervous consideration. “I think you will, Caleb,” she soothed. “I like to think that I know a little something, and if I know anything it’s that, if you want it bad enough, it’ll happen.”

There was a faraway look in her eyes, and for a moment, Caleb wasn’t sure at all that Veth was talking about just Molly anymore.

“Are _you_ okay?”

Veth licked her lips and tugged a bit on the zipper of her sweater before answering. “I’m fine, Caleb. I’m great, actually. I’m great.” So many emotions flitted across her face in that moment, he couldn’t define a single one before she launched herself at him, flinging her arms around his neck. “I love you so much, Cay.”

Hugging her back, Caleb replied, “I love you, too. So much. My Nott.”

“My Cay.”

That night, Caleb fell asleep through the last pages of _Taran Wanderer_ , the book lying open on his chest, bedside lamp illuminating the room. The moment that his eyes shut, and his brain calmed, and REM began, the night opened to a different sort of day. Blissful and miraculous was the explosion of colour that signified the beauteous hidden glade in the far away realm between dreams called the Feywild.

When Caleb looked down at himself, he saw that he was different in the dream than the last time. Where before, he’d appeared as he’d remembered himself last – in hiking gear – this time, he was barefoot, toes wriggling in the soft cushion of moss. Subconsciously, as if he’d known he would be back, he’d ‘dressed’ himself for the unseasonable warmth of Molly’s glade, in shorts and a basic tank, his hair up messily, only a few strands loose to tickle the back of his neck. And, when he reached up a hand to touch his face, he found himself clean-shaven.

Excited but nervous, Caleb made his way to the giant willow, it’s bright yellow-green whips so long and thick that they obscured all behind them. Step for step, he drew closer, wondering what he would say, what he would do when in Mollymauk’s alluring, overwhelming presence once more. Smile like a loon? Stumble through a few words? Generally look himself a lovelorn fool and be all the more glad of it because it was Molly, and Molly was real?

Or what?

His feet stopped themselves at the natural barrier, leaves tickling his bare toes.

Closing his eyes, Caleb breathed deeply the jasmin scent, sighed, pushing aside the willow whips, and stepped beyond and into Mollymauk’s domain.

Only the faint twittering of a bird disturbed the silent hush of the leaves as they sways back, dragging along the mossy ground. Caleb opened his eyes. Instantly, his gaze was drawn to the branch of the tree where Molly had lain, but it was empty. Indeed, looking around, Caleb saw nothing and no one; only the earthy surroundings, dotted with moss and lichen and little fungi whose spores dispersed into the airs as he stepped past them in soft yellow and red dustings, and the massive trunk of the tree at the center.

“Mollymauk?”

The word did not echo, muted by the heavy vegetation, stifling the sound from travelling further. Caleb looked up into the higher branches and saw nothing. A few distant gnats conglomerated in a cloud not far from his head, but that was all the life he saw.

Anxiety spiked in his chest, fear blossoming quickly and he strode purposefully to the tree, hauling himself onto one of its many arms, climbing, climbing. Against his hands the rough bark did not even manage to graze him and he rose higher and higher until he could feel warmth again on him, like a drifting mist; his head peeked through the topmost branches, and Caleb could see the whole vast world laid out before him like a map. And there, below the canopy, an opening, wide and green, dotted purple and yellow and white. The glade. And just beyond the glade in a place he’d not ventured before with Molly, was a sparkling, laughing river – not the main thread of it, but some more peaceable offshoot, gently burbling away. And right at the opening to the riverbed, perched on a large rock, was Mollymauk, his naked form unmistakable as he dipped his toes in the clear, crystalline water.

Ease passing through him, Caleb found it within him to laugh a bit at the lunacy of his nerves. This was Molly’s glade after all, and he was trapped there. Wasn’t that the problem in the first place? The one he was trying solve?

“A fool indeed, Widogast,” he murmured to himself. “An absolute lunatic.”

He admired Mollymauk for a moment more before pulling his head back beneath the leaves, out from the dream-sun’s eye and climbed down. Something like joy sprung with elation within him and Caleb, letting out a whooping laugh, feeling young again, jumped from the lowest branch to the ground, landing solidly, toes and fingers curling into the damp earth. Caleb stood, brushing off his hands on his pants, before heading in the direction of the open glade.

Through the willow’s long switch-branches, which Caleb parted like a waterfall, the glade was even more beautiful than he remembered; more flowers were blossoming, the green of the grasses was more vibrant, the sun shone more completely and even the wind was gentler than before. Giddy, Caleb turned toward the gentle sound of running water, and the soft splashing as Molly kicked his aimless feet through its rushing streams.

Pausing for a moment, Caleb debated how to approach. He imagined Veth laughing at him for his schoolboy antics, and sobered, but it couldn’t stop the happiness he felt from lighting him from the inside outward. Tempering his footsteps so that he would not be immediately heard, Caleb approached.

The line of Molly’s spine was visible against the press of his lilac skin, hunched over as he was to swipe a hand listlessly through the water. It ended, of course, in the protrusion of his tail, which Caleb took a blushing interest in, watching how it curled and flicked like a cat’s.

Deliberately, Caleb looked at the ground and stepped onto a twig, snapping it.

Molly didn’t startle; instead, leisurely almost, he lay backwards, arching his back the opposite it had been, and stretched, languorous, looking over his shoulder with a smile.

“Hello Caleb,” Molly said, wicked smile curving across his lips. “I knew you’d come to me today!”

“So you chose to bathe, knowing this, hmmm?” Caleb couldn’t help but tease, leaning himself up against a tree to admire Molly, crossing his arms as he did.

“Well, what’s time in a dream anyways?” Molly asked. “An hour, a year, a few minutes? It could have been anything, and it felt like the sort of day for a dip in the stream at any rate.” Twisting, he pulled his knees up beneath him onto the rock, a little like Caleb imagined a mermaid might sit. The comparison was at least a little apt. Temptuous and beautiful, and smirking with _far_ too much self-satisfaction. “Come join me?” Molly asked, too innocently. “That shirt, if you can call it that, isn’t much use – there’s hardly any fabric to it. Take it off. Wade with me!”

Caleb had to stifle a laugh, but still, his eyebrows jumped. “There is more being done to cover me with this than your robe did to cover you yesterday, and yet you still wore it, though it wasn’t much use either. Why should I take mine off, if that’s so?”

“Because I want to see you.” Unashamed, Molly finally stood, legs glistening with clinging droplets. “You don’t have to if you-“

But Caleb was already pulling the tank up and over his head, rendering Molly speechless. Hanging the top on a branch, Caleb smiled. “See something you like? Let’s swim then, or wade, or whatever, and talk. I trust I cannot get a sunburn here if I do not want to, ja?”

“No…ah, no.” Molly gulped visibly and it was Caleb’s turn to flash a wicked smile. Two could play at that game.

“No sunburn,” Molly continued, reaching for his hand. “I wouldn’t allow it, even if we were in my glade for real. I can see where you’d be concerned. You are quite pale, aren’t you?”

Caleb recognized the redirect for what it was, but he let Molly have his dignity. “Yes. Red hair does me no good in this respect. Do you…tan?” he asked, after a moment’s consideration. “I am sorry, I am only curious.”

Shrugging as he pulled Caleb down to the water, Molly seemed to think. “Nothing much changes for me. I might, but I don’t really know it. My glade, Caleb, is always the same, if I want it to be. The weather, the strength of the sun, all of it. So I guess I don’t rightly know. It’s possible.”

Caleb’s toes hit the water; it was the perfect temperature, not too warm or too cool, unfathomably clear, and surprisingly deep. As Molly’s hand tugged at his, grasp light and nearly drifting apart, he saw already that it was to Molly’s knees, and his tail left rippling trails through the places where the water stilled and ebbed, secluded by a set of rocks and loose branches from the eddies. Caleb followed in his wake, water lapping at his calves gently.

“How long has it been for you, Molly, since last we saw one another?” Caleb asked, tightening his hold on Molly’s hand only just as he came to stand beside him.

Molly shrugged. “I don’t know. The measure of passing time in the glade is almost impossible. It’s been midmorning for quite a long time.”

Brow furrowed, Caleb pulled him so that they were face to face. “I do not understand.”

“You speak of days. The hours of a day might pass, but I cannot measure them by the passage of the sun in the sky like you. Like Bren. The Feywild doesn’t work like that. But,” he stepped nearer to Caleb, all of a handspan the space between them. “I haven’t been missing you long, though.”

“Did you?” Caleb asked. “Miss me, that is?”

Caleb had the distinct satisfaction in that moment of learning that Molly blushed a beautiful plum. “Yes. I did. You’re lovely company, dear.”

“Not just because I look like Bren?” He asked, watching Molly’s expression carefully.

He only shook his head. “No, Caleb.” Reaching to press his hand to Caleb’s smooth jaw, Molly’s smile fell away and a few small lines around his gemlike eye creased. “You shaved. I like it. Bren never shaved, but you know that, don’t you.”

It wasn’t a question.

“Caleb, you’re beautiful, and you love me,” Molly began, and Caleb felt his breath catch at the admissions. “You’ve said as much, and I believe that it’s possible, that we’re predisposed to it by fate, and that, with time, I will truly love you as well. Not for your looks, or for Bren’s personality, which you _don’t_ have, by the way. In the least. Bren was…” Molly bit his lip. “While you’re both a measure of serious, Bren carried a weight that I know you do not, and it left him much altered. You and he could never be the same, for all you are similar. I’ll tell you as many times as you need to hear it, but I’m not here with you, now, because of him. I’m where with you, now, for you. Now,” he said, smiling with his eyes as well as his lips, sharp incisors on proud display. “let’s get to know one another, shall we?”

And with that, Molly shifted his grasp on Caleb’s hand and _tugged_ , pulling them both down into the water.

In the shallow depth, they both hit the soft silt bottom of the brook without getting anywhere near submerged. Caleb spluttered, blinking water from his eyes furiously as he listened to Molly laugh uproariously beside him, tail lashing through the water.

“Oh, dear, your face. I’m sorry! Are you alright?” Molly asked between snickers.

“I do not think you know the meaning of sorry,” Caleb groused out, wiping the damp strands of his hair from his eyes. Molly was smirking when Caleb finally caught an unblurred glimpse of him, not a single flower bud within his hair dislodged from its place. “You are impossible.”

“But you love me.”

And what could Caleb say to that? Deny it? He couldn’t.

“Yes. Yes, you are right. I do.”

Molly pushed himself forward through the water, grabbing Caleb by the wrists and pulling him forward. “How was your day? Was it just one day?”

“Ja, it was one day. I spoke to Veth about you, and about Bren.”

“Back up, you told Veth about me? Your best friend, yes?”

“Ja.”

Mischief lit Molly’s eyes and Caleb felt his smitten heart flutter.

“And what did she say, then?”

“That if you break my heart, she will find her way into this dream herself and kill you,” Caleb replied, with no small degree of relish.

“Good. She clearly loves you very much. That’s what I like to hear. And your parents?”

“Well, thank you for asking. They are acting suspiciously, but I know that they are only worried for me. Veth told me a little more of what they know of…” he waved his hands, lifting them from the water, droplets falling like a rain shower into the water between them. “All of this.”

“That’s a very nebulous ‘this’,” Molly said, cocking his head.

“Yes, well, this is a very nebulous situation, is it not?”

“Can’t argue with you there, dear.”

Caleb let out a heavy sigh, letting his torso float lazily on the water’s surface. “I don’t know what to do. There is no mention of this world, of any of the cities from Exandria that you mentioned…nothing that I can find from home, and believe me, information on anything you please is not terribly difficult to come by in my world. I…” Caleb fathomed for the moment the experience that would be attempting to explain the internet to Molly and decided against it. “I found _nothing_ ,” he settled on. “There is a book, a poem really, a story that is many ages old. A legend from a time long past, that bears passing resemblance to what little I know of yours. I am hoping that as my childhood memories return, I will find more out that will help me look, but, truth to be told, I have no idea how I will free you, Mollymauk. And for that, I am sorry.”

“Oh, Caleb.” Molly raised a hand to his face, pushing wet fingers through damp copper hair. “I’ve waited a long time to be free. Longer than I can even remember. I can wait a little longer yet.”

It felt to Caleb like the air had been punched from his lungs. A cloud shifted, the sun filtered down through the trees, speckling Molly with the sun-bright shadows of thin, veiny leaves, his eyes glittering, stray water droplets glimmering on his shoulders, expression soft and open. Impulsively, Caleb surged up through the water, capturing Molly’s lips in a surprisingly tender kiss. As they wound their arms around one another, keeping the kiss gentle and slow, Caleb pushed off the ground, feet sinking deep into the silt, propelling them a little down-stream. Molly’s hands reached the back of his head, tangling there without great purpose, but Caleb relished the feeling, his own hands finding purchase at Molly’s back, pressing gently into the flesh over his shoulder blades. They kissed lazily until Molly’s back hit the riverbank, and continued to kiss, even as Molly pulled Caleb to standing and they made their way tenuously onto the mossy shore.

When the broke for air, Caleb lifted himself off of Molly a little, propped on his elbows, and took in Molly’s, splayed curls, swollen lips, flushed cheeks and cheeky grin with a confused smile of his own.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“Liar.”

“It’s only, _you_ kissed me, this time,” Molly said gleeful. “I like that.”

“Do you?”

“Yes,” Molly replied, almost bashful. “You’re brash. It’s attractive, honestly.”

“You know what is not attractive?”

“Hmm?”

Caleb reached forward a hand to brush at Molly’s hair. “I was going to say mud, but…” Miraculously, he found none clinging to them anywhere, despite the way they’d lain. “That is terribly convenient.”

“What good is a dream if it’s too near to reality?” Molly asked. “No mud, no dirt, no bug bites or sunburns. Among…other things.”

Laughing, Caleb rolled from over Molly and got to his feet, bending to offer the nymph his hand. Molly took it, slim, uncalloused fingers resting gently in Caleb’s own soft palm before sliding to grasp his wrists. Caleb closed his grip and, leveraging against one another, pulled Molly to standing.

Hand in hand they wandered out from beneath the little copse, away from the brook. The sight of the sunny glade made Caleb feel light inside. He could hardly recall the last time that he felt so free. Though by no means had his life been sad or hard or upsetting, it had been a long, long time since he’d made a connection that was more than just platonic that felt significant in any way. Since Wolf, he’d kissed other people, dated other people, even slept with a few of them, but watching Veth with Yeza and his parents with one another, he longed for more.

And here was Molly, tossing his flower bedecked head, laughing unbecomingly and Caleb felt his heart soar.

Yet, all he could find to say was: “What are you laughing at?”

“You! Your serious face! We just kissed in the river and you went from looking like you’d have some sort of mind altering fruit to looking like your cat died. He didn’t, did he?” Molly added quickly.

“Ah, nein. I was just thinking about how…” What had he been feeling? What had he been thinking? Everything and nothing, his mind a ratted messy coil of vining thoughts, leafing green with new buds of possibility and hopeful pathetic romance.

Wolf have been right about at least one thing: he definitely read too many books, especially when he was mentally starting to compare himself to Beren and Mollymauk to Luthien Tinuviel (though he wasn’t sure she would ever have laughed quite as ridiculously as Molly, but Caleb didn’t mind it at all. What good was perfect anyway? He had learned that long ago, from Veth, and the children who teased her).

“You were just thinking what, Caleb?” Molly paused, turning to look at him. “ _I_ think I lost you there for a moment. Are you with me?”

“Sorry, ja, I am here.” Caleb sighed heavily, mood altered, and stared at their conjoined hands. “I want to free you from this place very badly and I don’t know how to do it. You don’t…you don’t happen to know anything? Not one thing? Bren didn’t happen to say-”

Molly lifted his chin with a finger. “Caleb, look at me,” he began, but his tone was shaky, if only just, and Caleb noticed it immediately. Though there wasn’t a waver in Molly’s placid red eyes, the corners of his mouth twitched downward, and his tail lashed wildly.

Molly was nervous.

“Look at me,” he repeated. “Bren…you _can’t_ try that, Caleb. You can’t try what he did. It just…it won’t work. Please, trust me that it won’t work? I can’t- I don’t want to-“

“It’s fine.” Caleb squeezed Molly’s hand. “It’s fine. It will come to me in a dream, in my memories. You don’t need to say anything. I won’t pressure you. I will…I will find some other way. I promise you, I will.”

Softness lit Molly’s gaze. “I know you will, Caleb. I can see it in you that you will.” Then, he smiled, wide and bright, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Besides. You need to figure out how to _get_ to me first, anyways, from your…what is your world called again? Germany?”

“Nein, that is the country. The world is called Earth.”

“Oh.” Molly made a face, frankly unimpressed. “How quaint.”

“Do you have a problem with that?” Caleb asked in mock defense.

“What? Hmm? No! If it’s where you’re from, then I’m sure it’s _perfectly_ lovely. You should tell me more about it, you know, so that when you take me there, I know what I’m in for.”

Molly said it with such nonchalance that Caleb almost fell over when Molly kept walking without him, pulling his hand ever farther out and away as he did.

“Caleb?” Molly stopped when he noticed that the human wasn’t moving. “Is something wrong?”

“You… _want_ to come to live on Earth?” he asked, dumbfounded. “But it-it-it don’t you want to go back to your own world? With gnomes and faeries and magic? Don’t you want to be able to go home?”

Molly smiled, a sad, all too knowing look. “Caleb, I’ve been here so long, I don’t have much to miss. What does that place have that this place does not save my freedom to come and go? I don’t know anyone there, anymore. They’re lost to memory, to time. But you’re real. You’re tangible. And you have flying machines you can have a bath on! What’s Exandria compared to that? In case you haven’t got it figured yet, I love a bath. A really good bath.”

Caleb debated for half a second setting the record straight about bathrooms on airplanes, but decided it was most likely a lost cause. All the same, he still didn’t quite understand it; Molly’s world was…It was the only thing belonging to Bren that Caleb could think on with any degree of envy. What he wouldn’t have given as a child, and now too, even as an adult, to stride his way into a land as richly fantastically magical as any Middle Earth or Camelot.

“Well, we have very good baths in my world. Instantly hot and very clean. You will enjoy them, I should think, if you do decide to go to my world. If…if that is even a possibility. I suppose we will have to find out?”

“I suppose so.” That time, when Molly smiled, the skin around his eyes crinkled becomingly with it. “Now. Enough maudlin talk. You have absolutely lovely hair and I very much want to give you a flower crown and braids, if you’ll let me, dear? And you can tell me more about your world.”

“Oh!” Caleb smiled, allowing himself to be pulled along again, till they neared that same small tree where they’d lain the first time they kissed. Molly sat, inviting Caleb to settle in front of him. “Do you not need to pick the flowers first?” he asked, mildly confused.

Molly only raised a brow, patting the patch of grass in front of him again. “Sit, dear. Let me take care of you.”

Without any other recourse, and generally curious, Caleb sat as directed. When he felt Mollymauk’s dexterous fingers thread through his hair, he shivered. The skin on the back of his neck was tingling curiously; it felt good, but also a bit intimate. Silly, considering that only minutes ago they’d been locked in a tender embrace.

“So,” Molly said as he started to section Caleb’s hair, “tell me about your very favourite thing on earth.”

“Books. And my cat. And my family and friends of course, but I have already told you of them.”

“But you haven’t said anything about books!” Molly only answered after a moment’s hesitation. “Please tell me about them? Do you have a favourite? Do you like all books or only some? How many do you have? Are they-“

“How about,” Caleb said, cutting him off. “How about I bring one, next time, so that I can read to you, and you can see what is so wonderful about them firsthand?”

Against his ear, Caleb felt a soft tickle of breath. “That would be wonderful, dear.”

Whatever words Caleb had been about to say fled him, but he recovered with a few blinks and stammers. “I will bring you The Lord of the- oh. Oh.”

“What?”

“I cannot. This is a dream. I cannot bring things with me to a dream.” Had it not been for Molly’s fingers wrapped tightly in his hair, braiding away, Caleb would have hung his head. “I am sorry, Molly.”

But Molly only laughed. “Caleb! It’s a dream. You can have whatever you want here, so long as you want it to be present.”

Caleb glanced down to his hand, laying open on his knee and closed his eyes, imagining very hard the beautiful cover of his copy of _Fellowship_ , old and worn and second hand, smelling of vanilla and almonds and the decay of old paper and glue. He felt the weight of it in his hand before he looked. When he opened his eyes, it was there, comfortable in his grasp.

Holding his breath, Caleb opened the book. And there, on the pages, the words. He let out a sigh of relief, and imagined that he would have done well for himself in the world of Bradbury’s _Fahrenheit_.

“See! You did it!” Molly practically crooned. “It’ll be a while before I’m done, so I’m very excited to hear! What’s it called? What’s it about? Is it a lovely story? It must be, because you like it so much.”

Stifling a laugh, Caleb thumbed through the familiar pages. Molly was almost as terrible as a two year old, for all of his questions. Admittedly, Caleb was sure that he could be just as bad himself. It didn’t take long for Caleb to find the pages that he wanted.

“It is a wonderful story, Mollymauk.” Caleb thought back to his childhood, to sitting on the divan with his father, reading them together in the beautiful early summer sunlight. “Full of hope and good hearts and valiant deeds in the face of darkness. Normally, I would start at the beginning of a book, but I…I have been thinking of this chapter in particular, because of you. If you are confused, I can always stop and go back to the beginning, for that is really where I should start…”

“No,” Molly said definitively. “No, I’d like to hear the part you want to read to me most. Please.”

There was a gentle tug on his scalp and a soft breeze. “If you are sure.”

Molly only hummed by way of answer.

Taking the book gingerly in both hands, as though it were real – for the real one was always near to falling apart, but he couldn’t bare to replace it – Caleb settled in to read.

“ ‘Chapter 6. _The Old Forest_. Frodo woke suddenly. It was still dark in the room. Merry was standing there with a candle in one hand, and banging on the door with the other. ‘All right! What is it?’ said Frodo, still shaken and bewildered…’”

He read on for a while, detailing how the hobbits entered the forest, how at first they were confident and content, and then, nervous as the woods became old and mysterious and trickier than first they thought. How they grew tired, and dazed. All the while, Molly’s fingers worked his hair smoothly and gently, tugging occasionally but never pulling. Never once did Molly stop him to ask a question, and Caleb wished, just a bit, that he could see Molly’s face as the hobbits fell sleepily to the base of the willow, but he kept reading, well into the chapter, and then, before he knew it, Tom Bombadil was singing his way into the story and the River’s daughter.

Eventually, Molly pulled his hands away and slid them down Caleb’s shoulders, drawing him back and back until his head was laid across Molly’s knees and he was holding the book up above his head to read.

“’…When they had sung this altogether after him, he clapped them each on the shoulder with a laugh, and taking candles led them back to their bedroom.’”

Caleb closed the book, finished, and laid it aside, turning his head to look up at Mollymauk, who was watching him intently.

“Well?”

“That’s it?!”Molly asked, almost plaintive. “I won’t lie, I’m just a little confused, or, maybe more than a little, but it was _beautiful_ , you weren’t wrong about that. And the hobbits, are they meant to be halflings? I’ve met a few before. They are a rather robust folk. And the tree! And the River’s daughter! Was she meant to be a little like a Nymph? But what about this ring…and that funny Bombadil fellow? What’s that about?”

He looked beautiful in the sunlight, excitement and passion on his face as he waved his hands in the air, and Caleb fell, just a bit more deeply, at the sight.

“Would you like me to read to you from the beginning? Or, perhaps, I could read _The Hobbit_ instead, for it is sort of like the preface to this series.”

Anything to make Mollymauk happy.

The nymph smiled and bent over, placing a kiss on Caleb’s brow. “Your voice is spectacular, dear. I could listen to you speak of nothing for hours, much less read a book,” Molly admitted, stroking his hand over Caleb’s hair.

“Then let me speak of something different for a moment.”

“Oh? What?”

Caleb reached out a hand to touch Mollymauk’s cheek, not quite ready to move from the comfortable position. “You.”

A furious violet flush blossomed over Molly’s cheeks. “Caleb, I-“

Sliding his fingers back to curl in Molly’s hair, Caleb drew him down once more for another kiss, gentle and innocent by comparison. When they parted, Caleb looked up into his eyes, and, for the first time, saw the shadowed ring of irises in Molly’s seemingly opaque eyes, which were fixed on Caleb, enraptured.

“I didn’t know you-“

And then, Caleb woke up.

 


	6. 5.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we go! The chapter you've all be waiting for! The second half is absolutely NSFW - it begins after the art - , and please, pay attention to updated tags. 
> 
> Thanks again to @PandaMeNope (https://twitter.com/pandamenope) for the art for this story! It's lush and breathtaking as always. 
> 
> Also, to Senor_Sparklefingers, who is my ever faithful beta and the best of friends.
> 
> School is out, there's no more grading to do, let the fic writing commence!

5.

“in the afterglow

of an evening rain

 

i lay down

in the grass

and think of you

 

my body aches

like an after-kiss

 

breaking in soft fires

and wildflowers

 

my dear,

i will always be

this tender for you.”

 

~  Sanober Khan, A Thousand Flamingos

 

“It's not the sort of night for bed, anyhow.”

 

~  Kenneth Grahame, The Wind in the Willows

 

“Caleb, mein Schatz, you are so quiet this morning. Are you alright?”

Caleb put down his knife. “I’m fine, Mutti. I just…didn’t sleep well.” Indeed, after he’d woken, frustrated and disappointed, Caleb had barely been able to sleep at all. Attempts to fall asleep had been fruitless, and he’d immediately set down at his desk to write down everything. Desperately, he wished he had some ability in art, that he might draw the glade. And Molly, of course.

Most especially Molly.

As perfect as his memory was, he couldn’t seem to make it transfer to paper.

(There were enough crumpled balls of sketching paper in the bin under his desk to prove it.)

“Shouldn’t you be sleeping just fine by now, Caleb?” His father asked, putting aside his coffee. “I really think we should take you back to the doctor’s-“

“Nein, Papa, I am fine. It’s just dreams, that’s all. I think that it’s just my memories, you know, from when I was little, trying to come back.” From the corner of his eye, Caleb watched his parents exchange a worried glance. “I feel like they’re just there, under the surface. Only the other night, I woke and I remembered everything…and then I lost it all again. But,” he reached for the preserves, “Veth did say that she remembered some things that I’d made around that time, stories, drawings, that sort of stuff. She’s coming again later today to help me look through them, to try and jog my memory.”

Deliberately, he looked between them. “Is something wrong?”

“Oh, Caleb, we just worry.”

“About?”

Leofric coughed a bit and lifted the mug of coffee back to his lips, while Una took a bite of her croissant.

“Mutti, Vati, I know that you know about the, ah…the _Bren_ thing. Veth told me. Bitte, don’t be upset with her,” Caleb urged at the alarm in his father’s eyes as he choked a bit on his coffee. “I begged her to tell me.” Biting his lip, Caleb considered what to say. He’d already lied enough to his parents, but this…this was different. He wasn’t in any danger this time. The doctors had already explained that his concussion was healing, more than once. “The headaches are just from the memories. My brain is fine. Another trip to the doctor will tell you the same thing, but…” he sighed. “if you really want me to go…”

“Nein,” Leofric set down his coffee. “Nein, Caleb, you are right. We have heard everything from your doctors, you are right. We just don’t understand. What is so important about these memories? You have lived most of your life without them, Caleb, to no trouble, ja?”

“Ja, aber-“

“I guess we just are worried about why you are so concerned with getting them back.”

There was no choice but to lie. “Papa, I do not think I am this Bren. You don’t have to worry about that. I know better. It is only that, my memory is perfect, except for this one thing, and that really bothers me. It is nothing more than an indulgence. That, and the headaches and fainting spells are from the memories. I just want it to be over, so that I can get back to work, and this seems like the best way to do it.” His heart sank at the half lies. He wanted to share the truth about Molly, but he knew exactly what they’d say.

It wasn’t worth worrying them. Not again. Not any more than he already had.

“I promise, Mutti, Vati, that’s all. I promise. Really.”

“We believe you, Caleb, dear.”

Guilt stabbed in his stomach.

“Actually, we have a bit of a surprise for you, if you’re feeling up to it?” Una pushed back her plate. “Someone should be arriving in, oh-“

A knock sounded at the door.

Caleb glared at his mother. “I do not know how you planned that, but I know you did, Mama.”

Una Widogast’s eyes only sparkled mischievously as Leofric stood to get the door and Caleb had a thought, a terrible, betraying thought that pierced his heart surprisingly harshly, that she would get along famously with Molly.

“ ‘sup Widogast?”

The voice tore him from his thoughts and Caleb looked up to see Beauregard, standing, arms crossed, but lips twitching up to a smile, bag over her shoulder.

“Beauregard!”

“Hi Caleb.”

He let out a breath. “Well, I will go set the table for another guest. Did you drive all through the night? You must be exhausted.”

“Nah, I stopped overnight.” She smiled, dropping her bag to hug him. “I missed you, dude. How’re you feeling? You parents said you fell over again.”

“I’m good,” Caleb said, his smile stretching thin across his lips. Veth might believe him, with the benefit of their long, long years together, but Beau…Well, there was no guarantee that she’d let him off so easily. “Really. We can talk later, after you have eaten.” He ushered her to the table. “Vati, you have already met Beau, Mutti, you have not. Beauregard Lionett, my mother, Una Widogast.”

Beau stuck out her hand, and Una smiled broadly, taking it.

“Thank you for being such a good friend to out Caleb.”

“Ah, he’s a real lifesaver. And a far better friend than I am. I miss your shitty cereal, man. I ate it up. It’s gone.”

Benignly, Caleb smirked. “Ah huh. Sit you, and eat, verstehen?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m sitting.” Beau said, dropping into the chair without curling a leg under her for once. “Wouldn’t want to hold up your parents. Uh, thanks, by the way. This is real nice.”

“Of course, you are more than welcome.”

Over the course of _frühstück,_ Beau and Caleb’s parents chatted rather amicably about things, but he couldn’t focus. It wasn’t that he was thinking obsessively about telling Beau, or about looking through his things with Veth. It wasn’t even that he was worrying about his parents. Every once in a while, he would catch the scent – pervasive now – of _Jasmin_ and think of Mollymauk, of how soft his hair was beneath Caleb’s hands, of how bright his eyes and smile, of the veritable cackle that came from such an absolute beauty of a person.

It left Caleb astounded and distracted, and anxious.

Anxious for sleep, to see him again. Anxious to set him free, to bring him to Earth. Anxious to touch him for real and feel it linger in more than just the vanished of a dream.

Mollymauk’s phantom touch tingled goosebumps up his spine.

Caleb sighed and Beau threw him a look, but said nothing.

Before long, breakfast was finished and the two friends headed off into the house by themselves. Una left for work and, since Beau was there to Caleb, Leofric did, too. It was strange how, only days before, Caleb wished more than anything to be with them, only for that constant presence to soon feel overwhelming in light of the way he was left feeling, having to hide the truth from them as he did.

With the sun shining into his bedroom, it gave the unnatural effect of warming the room a good many degrees, and Beau, shrugging off her lightweight zip-hoodie, flopped down unceremoniously across his bed.

“Dude, your parents are _awesome_.”

“Ja, they are pretty cool.”

“I wish they were my parents. My parents _suck_. You know, I uh, well...fuck it, it doesn’t matter.” Beau stumbled over her words alarmingly and Caleb shot her a concerned glance.

“Are you sur-“

“Yeah, dude, later. Later. How are you? And don’t feed me that crap line from earlier. I mean _really_ , how are you?”

Caleb sat down on the bed beside her and waited.

“Dude…” Beau sat up. “What’s going on in there?” She tapped at his temple.

“Beauregard, what I tell you, you must promise me you will _not_ repeat to my parents, whether you believe me or not. I don’t ask much of you, you know, other than that you do your laundry once in a while, and-“ he turned on her “ _don’t eat all of my granola_ , which you claim to hate, and yet? - You have always gotten through it before I could have more than one bowl! I don’t understand, ach! Anyways, I don’t ask a lot, but I’m asking you to do this. Please. For me?”

Beau only shrugged. “You don’t want me to tell your parents something? S’no skin off my back. What’s up?”

_Last chance, Widogast._

He took a great breath, and then, spoke.

“The visions, they are real. From as past life. I was the man I saw, once, long ago. In another life, in another age, another _world_. I was him, then, but I am me, now.”Afraid to look at her, for fear of her reaction, Caleb instead only looked at his hands.

“Okay, Caleb. And…you’re….sure? About this?”

She wasn’t convinced. The evidence was plain in her tone of voice and Caleb felt his heart sink a little, but he wasn’t surprised. He’d accepted the likelihood that she’d be skeptical. It was, after all, in her nature.

“Ja. Very sure. There is more, and I could tell you, but only if you are willing to hear it.”

“I mean…”

The mattress shifted as Beau leaned in towards him, putting a hand firmly on his shoulder. “I’m here for you, dude. I don’t…get it, I’ll be honest, but I’m here for you. Whatever you need, man.”

“I need you to support me.”

“Then okay, I can do that. I’ll support you. What else do you have to tell me?”

For one selfish moment, Caleb considered keeping it to himself. Already, he’d shared the secret of Mollymauk with Veth, but that didn’t mean he had to do so with Beau. Very nearly, he glossed over it all together, but he sighed as his conscience prickled.

“There is a mission that I am meant to do. A quest I have to accomplish. A nymph is stuck in a tree, and Bren couldn’t get him out. But there is me, now, and I am the only one who can help him. There is no one else. I am his only hope to ever leave his glade. And I want to help him.” Heat pooling in his cheeks, Caleb kept the rest from her, trying hard not to bend to the memory of it all, soft and golden like a dream. (It was a dream, still and it rankled worse than most _anything_ ).

“Well.” Beau stretched her legs out straight in front her, awkwardly, toes bending up, arch of her foot straining. “That’s awfully altruistic of you.”

“I have met him.”

“Uh huh. Right. What’s his name?”

“Mollymauk. Mollymauk Tealeaf.”

“Alright… And this Mollymauk, he spoke to you? You really know he’s real and not-“ She lifted her forefinger to her head and spun a circle. “Cuckoo?”

“I am not crazy, Beau.”

“Alright. I believe you. I believe you’re not crazy. You’re not the type, honestly. But none of this means I’m not still worried, okay. How do you know he was real?”

Eyes wide, vainly constraining his flush, Caleb stammered a little as he tried to formulate a reply. “He’s…very…he’s very real. I could not have made up a person like him to save my life, Beau. There is no one like him. Not in this world, or his, or in all the books that history has ever written. There is _nothing_ like him. And that is how I know. He is wholly unique. And-“

“Dude, are you crushing on a mystical nymph creature that’s stuck living in a tree?”

A strong urge overcame him to get up and leave the room.

“Hello, Earth to Caleb!” Beau waved her hand in front of his face.

“And if I said, ja?” he finally replied. Beau only blinked, confused. “I am answering your question with a question. What if I said yes? That I am in love with a nymph from another world?” Caleb pressed further. “What if I told you that I have kissed him, that I want to kiss him again, that I think about kissing him all of the time? What if I told you that when we were sitting at breakfast, I was thinking about kissing him then?”

A long pause endured, during which Beau wet her lips and looked to be thinking very, very hard. Caleb ran a hand over his face nervously, mind racing, every conceivable response she could have flitting through his brain.

“Uh…” Beau began, startling Caleb, but an uncomfortably long gap extended between the sound and any future words. “I guess I’d ask you if he treats you right?”

“ _Beauregard_.”

“Jesus, Caleb, what am I supposed to say? You sound…okay, yeah, you’re starting to make me a little concerned, okay? But you’re a smart guy!” Beau punched him gently in the shoulder, which meant he’d only bruise for a few days and not a whole week. “You wouldn’t say things weren’t real if they weren’t real.”

For all the earnestness that Beau interjected into her words, Caleb could tell it lacked conviction. She didn’t believe him and there was nothing he could possibly do to convince her, and he knew it. When he smiled, it was a thin smile.

“Of course, Beauregard.”

It wasn’t a lie, but it still effectively ended the conversation there and they sat looking awkwardly at one another. Caleb bit his lip, twisted his hands in his lap. Beau shifted uncomfortably.

“Dude, you know I-“

“It’s fine, Beauregard.”

“ _Caleb_.”

“It’s fine.”

She laid a hand rather more gently on his shoulder. “Caleb. Seriously. I’m listening, okay? I’m listening. I’ll take you seriously. Just…talk to me? Okay? I’ll listen. No judgement. You’re in love with this guy? Who’m I to talk? You do you, man. If he makes you happy, I mean, that’s all that’s important, right?”

Caleb’s smile softened, but did not reach his eyes. “Thank you, Beauregard. For understanding, at least.” _If not for believing_.

“I’m your friend, Caleb. I’m always your friend. You know that, right?”

“Ja, I do. Danke.” He grinned then, in disbelief, shaking his head. “I cannot believe that you came all this way just to check on me!”

“What’re friends for?” She shrugged. “Besides, I needed your help on some stuff for school and it’s easier if you’re around to point things out for me, rather than me sending you a picture, or skyping you in. Anyways… you have to show me around. I want to see your home. Who knows?” Her lips twisted up in a smirk. “Maybe I’ll stick around when I’m done with school. Are there any hot ladies around town?”

“Well, I know at least one. There is Veth, and I must insist that you meet. I was going to go by her later and I am sure she would not mind it if you tagged along.”

“Absolutely.” Beau slapped her thighs firmly. “Gotta meet the best friend. That’s like, in the rules isn’t it? When you bring home the roommate, you have to introduce them to the bestie. It’s like, a movie montage must.”

Caleb smiled so hard that his eyes squeezed shut. “Oh, you and Veth will get along just fine, Beau. Ja, just fine.”

* * *

 

 

 

In turned out that Veth and Beau got along swimmingly, after the first few suspicious glares at one another, more out of perceived duty than any real animosity. Caleb had anticipated as much, and was pleased enough by their mock begrudging truce as ‘best home friend’ and ‘best school friend’ was forged.

“So, you knew about all this stuff? And his parents did to?” Beau asked later, as they trawled through the assorted papers that Veth had kept from their younger years. Holding up a drawing of a dungeon layout on hand made graph paper with a curious arch to her brow, Beau waited for Caleb and Veth to veto it as something they were looking for before laying it aside.

“Yeah, I knew everything. After he knocked his head that second time, we just figured it was best to leave the idea be, you know? Didn’t want to mess around with his noggin any more than had already been done.”

Beau snorted but Veth only shrugged. “Oh, hey, what’s this? This is pretty wicked. You said you’re looking for a map, right? I may be dumb, but I’m not stupid – this is definitely a map.”

Before Beau could so much as blink, Veth had snatched the worn, folded paper from her hands. “This is it! Here, Caleb! Take a look!”

The paper that she held forth was creased and yellowed with age – considering that it had been sitting for so long in Veth’s attic, it wasn’t exactly surprising. Delicately, he unfolded it until its faded but precise contents revealed themselves to him.

It was indeed a map, draw with a very careful hand. As Caleb stared at it, his vision began to swim, and the ages of time spend backwards, until he was left in the golden glow of memory.

_“See, here is Xhorhaas, Veth! That is where the dark elves live. They are fascinating, I think, but Bren doesn’t know what to think of them. I think he was told they were bad, but that’s silly. No one is just ‘bad’. Only individuals are bad, ja? At least, that is what Vati says. Oh! And here is Rexxentrum, that’s where Bren lives, in the tower of the Cerberus Assembly. That’s where he works as a mage.”_

_Veth ‘oooo’d and ‘ahhh’d over the map, but Caleb’s eyes drew to a simply marked spot, unlabeled but adorned with a willow tree. He slid over the detail, as though he’d never seen it. Keeping the knowledge to himself. He’d tell Veth later._

_She’d probably understand, but then, she mostly seemed to think it some fun, elaborate game that he’d concocted. Maybe she thought it was for the Dungeons and Dragons campaign he was trying to plan. Maybe she was just being nice and –_

_“Man, Caleb! This is so cool! I wish I had a second set of memories from a real fantasy land with elves and gnomes and things!”_

_His heart stalled in his chest and then he beamed. “Really?”_

_“Really! This is super cool! Caleb, magic is_ really _real there? You mean it?”_

_“Ja.”_

_“I wonder if we could get there. You know. Like going through the wardrobe to Narnia or something like that.”_

_Caleb bit his lip. “If only…”_

Almost abruptly, the memory ended and Caleb pitched a little bit backwards with the force of it.

“-leb?”

Beau and Veth were staring at him intently.

“Another memory?” Beau took the limp map from his grasp.

“Ja. One with you in it, Veth. The day I showed you the map.”

He looked down at it where Beau laid it on the floorboards between them. “There,” he pointed to the willow. “There is Mollymauk. That is his tree, where it sometimes exists both on the mortal plane and in the Feywild, like Bren said.”

“Okay, but we’re not even on this map, Caleb,” Beau circled her hands over the map like a magician incanting. “We’re on _Earth_ in _Germany_ and this map is titled ‘Exandria’, and I don’t know a damned continent that ever looked like that, even before the plates shifted.”

Veth sniffed. “Hmmph. Narrowminded American. Maybe we’re just another plane of existence too, ever thought about that?”

“Oh yeah, well then, tell me why no one like Bren ever landed himself in our world then, huh?”

“Maybe they have! How would you know?”

“Uh, maybe because on the way here Caleb told me there was nothing about it on the internet? Don’t you think someone would have probably mentioned something if-“

“The internet doesn’t have all the answers. Caleb’s brain on the other hand-“

“Oh yeah, sure, Mr. I-Remember-Everything who’s actually missing like, the first 10 years of his life’s worth of memories, right, sure, yeah I trust his brain for anything _but_ this-“

“Hey! Don’t talk about my boy like that, or I’ll-“

“Oh you wanna go, Veth? Huh you wanna-“

“You bet I wanna!”

"Oh for the love of-" Caleb ran his hands over his face. "Would you two quit it? I love you both, now, sit down like the generally civilized people you can manage to be. Occasionally. Bitte."

Both of his friends sat back, however reluctantly. Veth scooched closer to Caleb, lifting her chin, but her eyes with sparkling with good humour, and even though Beau rolled her eyes, it was exaggerated and the corners of her mouth twitched upwards, though she managed to contain most of her desire to smile.

“This is a start. Thank you, both of you, for helping me.” Caleb rested a hand each on both of their shoulders. “Maybe, someday, I can prove to you both what I am saying, and then you won’t have to worry, or take it on faith. But you are both here with me regardless, and I could not ask for a better set of friends.”

“No, you seriously couldn’t.” Beau gestured to Veth. “I think she’d tear the head off anyone coming for you with her bare hands if she had to.”

“And you’d punch them so hard they wouldn’t remember he was there at all. I can appreciate that.”

Caleb laughed, breaking their friendly standoff. “Now, how about dinner, hm? I am sure your poor husband is starving half to death, Veth.”

That got their attention and soon enough they were scrambling down the ladder from the attic, talking loudly over one another about Weisswurst.

As he stood, Caleb lifted the map from the floor and folded it neatly. “One step close, Molly. One step closer.”

* * *

 

A few days later, Beau was on her way back to Oldenburg and Caleb had moved from his parent’s place to the little cabin that the Brenatto’s rented out during the holiday season. It was just a little ways from the edge of the woods. His days, he spent hiking, searching for the place where he’d first fallen into the pseudo-dream realm where his and Molly’s worlds collided, hoping that it might have some significance, desperate to bring Molly some semblance of good news. Of progress.

And, as yet, he had none, leaving Caleb frustrated to say the least.

His nights, on the other hand, were far more pleasurable.

Every time he entered the glade, more and more flowers were blooming; vibrant blues and soft pale purples, bright whites and sun-dropping yellows dotted the bright light green of the meadow, save for in a circle right beneath the sapling where Caleb and Molly had lain that very first time, reveling in one another’s simple gaze.

He’d read a good portion of _The Hobbit_ from memory – time was strange in dreams, Molly said, and Caleb found that he was okay with that, so long as it meant feeling Molly’s fingers carding through his hair while he listened to Caleb read, occasionally gasping in surprise, his tender ministrations stilling at a tense moment. Then, he’d finished _Fellowship_ and moved on to _Two Towers_. He still remembered the surprise he felt at feeling the raindrop, only to look up and see that it was Molly crying over him, while Sam comforted Frodo with talk of stories, and happy-ending, as well as the sad ones.

 _“It’s horrible, but don’t stop. Please?”_ Molly had said. _“I need to know that they’ll be alright_.”

And so, the night after that, they’d spend on _The Return of the King_ , and by the end, Molly was placated, but still crying.

(Caleb kissed the tears from his cheeks, and Molly let him.)

(Molly had let him do more than that.)

There were touches now, gentle touches that required no preamble. The weight of Molly’s hand over his own was now so familiar to Caleb, it was as if he’d never lived a day without Molly’s companionship. Indeed, if this was what life could be like, he never wanted to.

The night after that was _Beowulf_ , which he read in his rather halting but accurately pronounced Old English, Molly listening with fascination, despite his lack of understanding.

As Caleb walked to the willow, he hummed to himself in anticipation for the text he’d chosen that night; a Charles Williams poem, not always traditionally beautiful, but technically complex and lyrical in it’s own way, and something Caleb was sure would pique Mollymauk’s interest. When he was in the glade, all the frustration melted away so easily.

Caleb could almost forget that it wasn’t real. That the sun didn’t burn, and the flowers didn’t grow, so much as appeared, and the water ran to and from nowhere, for all the terrain of the dream was only that which Molly and Caleb made it, and that realm was limited by Molly’s knowledge of the outside world, more than anything else.

It was a secret. A haven for they two alone.

And every time they met again, Caleb felt a little closer to him, as though Molly too were growing more comfortable and tender.  

Like many days, Molly wasn’t beneath the willow when Caleb pushed aside the trailing branches; the leaves, newly unfurling, clinging to their stems like delicate cocoons, trembling with the burstings of new life like butterflies ready to unfurl their damp, burgeoning wings. The world, for all it was a dream, smelled new and green and _alive_ , and Caleb reveled in it.

When he stepped out into the glade this time, the empty circle of green grass where they took their leisure was made even more prominent by the now overwhelming expanse of beautifully blooming flowers. Elated, Caleb started forward along the little winding trail of bare green that snaked its way through the glade. The small sapling had blossomed into fragrant pink and white flowers, and the large shrubs that lined along the trees that hide the brook were in full, pale purple blossom; the very air smelled of sweet nectar, honeysuckle, and heady lilac.

And there, waiting by the tree, was Mollymauk.

He wore the gossamer robe again, hanging open and slid off one shoulder rather artfully, by such a manner that Caleb was almost positive the nymph had arranged it that way on purpose.

“Hello, Caleb!” he called, waving, the shimmering fabric of his raiment drifting from the motion, leaving Caleb’s gaze to trail distractedly down Molly’s body.

“Hallo.”

“What do you think? The glade’s come alive. And all thanks to you!”

The moment he was near enough, Molly reached out a hand to take Caleb’s, drawing him in nearer.

“I have only done a part. You are the grand architect.” He scoffed. “In fact, I have done quite little. I cannot figure out anything new! I should be able to! My memories are on the cusp, and yet nothing comes!”

“Caleb, Caleb,” Molly pulled him in the last few steps until they were only a hands breadth apart, and pressed his palm to Caleb’s still smooth cheek, rubbing his thumb gently over the hollow. “You’re my muse, dear. All of this is for you, whether you have made progress or not. Now, unless you want to vent to me about it, I’d rather find some way to distract you.”

“Oh.” Caleb swallowed. “I just thought…it is spring.”

The soft light in Mollymauk’s eyes warmed his soul. “My flowers are for you, spring or no. So. Time to vent or time for a distraction? You choice, darling.”

The weight of Molly’s hand in his, the soft, feather light touch where the other cupped his cheek…

“Distraction, bitte. I have a surprise for you. Something special, I hope you-“

Before he could get the rest of the words out, Molly had drawn him in, delicately pressing a kiss to his lips. When they broke – half a second, no longer – Caleb felt different. The kiss was different. Molly was different. Something…

 

 

“Let me distract you…” Molly left a long pause, and for the first time, Caleb saw that he was nervous. “If you want.”

The flimsy robe slide the rest of the way off his shoulders, their tangled hands loosed, and the gossamer slipped to the ground. Caleb breathed heavily, the cloying scent of the flowers rushing to his head, and the vision of Mollymauk, bare, biting his lip, hair done through with every imaginable blossom, consumed him.

 

 

The surprise was forgotten.

“I do want. I… _bitte_.”

Molly didn’t speak. He reached for Caleb once more, and it didn’t take much for him to follow; his mind was light and airy like a cloud, his feet lifting of their own accord to follow the nymph to their grassy bed. With barely a touch and a glance, Caleb lowered himself to the ground, Molly with him, and allowed himself to be laid out amidst the flowers, allowed Molly’s smooth palms to caress down his arms, to smooth away the trembling anticipation in his muscles. Hands clasped, Molly leaned over him to kiss him again, and Caleb only half registered the sensation of the nymph’s tail wrapping lithely around his thigh, the spaded tip caressing the sensitive skin there with a delicate touch.

Breaking the kiss, Molly lolled his head to the side, his silken hair tickling at Caleb’s cheek. “Speak to me. Speak to me with your beautiful voice. I love hearing your voice...I love how I can hear your heart in your words, how you caress every syllable like it’s beautiful. How your face lights up when you read,” Molly whispered softly, like he was sharing a secret.

A thrill ran over Caleb at assuredly as the scant brush of their bodies together, and suddenly, his clothes felt too confining. He wanted to touch and be touched, to press himself into Molly’s form, to mold them together like twining statues carved from the same branch.

“I love how I feel when you’re with me, like the world is something grand. I can touch it, through you. I can see every last sight, every grand vista, every continent and people. You take me away from here each time we meet,” Molly paused, pressing a kiss at the warm throb of Caleb’s pulse, just beneath his ear, “even if you can’t yet take me away in reality. You’ve given me wings, Caleb. You’ve given me the world.”

The next kiss landed, tenderly bruising, along his throat. Caleb panted, breath stuttering.

“Let me share it with you.”

Without warning, Molly slid down the length of Caleb’s body, hands trailing lightly across his torso until they reached the hem of his shirt and pushed up and under to skate across his belly. Caleb flinched, a breath moan escaping his lips and he could swear he’d heard Molly chuckle, or felt it, rather, from where he’d rested his cheek at Caleb’s hip.

The hands tracked back down, playing at the waistband of his shorts.

“Mm-Molly, bitte.”

Molly didn’t need telling twice. As his fingers traced down, Caleb lifted his hips, allowing Molly to slide his shorts and boxers down, all the way off. They were flung, somewhere, into the bed of flowers, and Caleb felt himself grow hot, exposed as he was to the elements.

They weren’t really out in the open – it was the glade, and even then, the glade was nothing more than a dream – but the rush of it, of being debauched and passionate beneath the open sky set coiling tendrils of desire tight in Caleb’s abdomen. And then, Molly was on him. The warm expulsion of Molly’s breath against the his cock made him flinch again, but the warning was welcome, if brief. Molly’s deft, gentle touch landed on him, causing what little blood hadn’t already done so to rush south, and the wet heat of Molly’s mouth over the head cause him to lock up and then loosen, craning his head backwards despite himself; he wanted to see, wanted to watch Molly take him, wanted to run his hand through violet curls, sending loose blossoms cascading from their tentative perch all across his own stomach and the grass around them. Wanted to gently – _ever so gently –_ press Molly’s head forward.

Trembling with desire, Caleb lifted his head to look and found Molly looking back at him, lips stretched around his cock, cheeks hollowing as he slowly took Caleb to the base, nosing into the coarse hair there. When his head hit the back of Molly’s throat, the nymph hummed and Caleb keened, desire to tangle his fingers in Molly’s hair momentarily forgotten. Only when Molly pulled back, did he recall, threading his hand in Molly’s tresses.

“Oh, Gott, _Gott_ , Mm-Molly.”

There was no response, for Molly’d begun to lick a stripe from base to tip, before circling the head and pressing a butterfly soft kiss in his wake.

“Hush, beloved. I’ve got you.”

Caleb let his hand move with Molly’s head as it bobbed, not pushing, just there, a gentle pressure, sometimes harsher reflexively, but always gentle. The tender press of Molly’s hands on Caleb’s hips, holding him in place, in combination with the sensations of Molly’s lips and Molly’s tongue were enough to leaving him sobbing for breath. Once, twice, his hand tensed, tugging a bit on Molly’s hair and his hips tried to buck, involuntarily, but Molly kept him steady, took him to the base one more and then swallowed.

With a breathy cry, Caleb came. Molly held him through it, petting at his side until the aftershocks subsided and his body untensed and he sagged back into the grass, his fingers, losing all grip, slid from their purchase and his hand flopped to the ground.  Eyes closed, he barely even felt is as Molly pulled off of him and slid back up, hands never leaving his skin, his touch a tender boon to remind Caleb that, in some sense at least, it was all real. Even though a dream, it was very, very real.

Molly’s hand cupped his cheek. “How do you feel, beloved?”

With a flutter, Caleb’s eyes opened and he took in Molly’s appearance, lips swollen, cheeks flushed a dark, tempting palatinate, red eyes shining. A single blossom dropped from the mess of his curls, landing on Caleb’s cheek before rolling off into the grass beside him.

“I…” Caleb tried, but it only dissolved into a contented humming sound and Molly’s face brightened into a smile.

“I love you, Caleb.”

Breathless still, Caleb tried to make a joyful sound, but it came out soft instead. Molly kissed him again, drinking the sigh from his lips.

“It is easy to love you, Caleb. So easy. I want to do it forever, if you’ll let me.” Lazily, Molly grasped at his shoulders, laving kisses at his neck. “Make love to me, Caleb?” he asked, voice a soft and gentle caress. “Make love to me.”

Even lax and languid as he was, Caleb suddenly felt something burn within him, not painful, but warm, building. He _wanted_ to make love to Molly, but it took a moment for his mind to catch up and realize that, even though he’d only just come and his mind was exhausted, his body wasn’t.

Dreams, it seemed, had perks.

Reinvigorated, Caleb pulled Molly closer to him and then rolled, switching their positions. For the first time, it was Molly looking up at Caleb and not the other way around.

“I am in love with you, too, but I think you already know that, Mollymauk.”

“I do.”

“Let me show you, then.”

Caleb cupped Molly’s cheek a moment and then let his hand wander, tracing the nymph’s jaw and the delicate point of his ear. Molly said nothing, only watching Caleb curiously. He leaned down and pressed a kiss over each of Molly’s eyes, and another on his lips. His hand snaked down to take Molly’s for a moment and then, after a squeeze, Caleb shifted, straddling Molly and sat up. Crossing his arms over each other, Caleb pulled his tank over his head, and flung it _almost_ as carelessly as Molly had tossed his pants earlier.

Boldly, Molly put his hand to Caleb’s chest, right over his heart, and Caleb placed his hand over Molly’s, trapping it there.

“This is a dream.”

“It is. It’s the perfect dream.”

“Not yet.” He nudged Molly’s legs apart with his knees. “It will be perfect when you have enjoyed yourself, too.”

“Oh, darling,” Molly laughed. “I’m looking forward to it.”

The span of his hands on Molly’s very purple thighs was a lovely sight to behold; the indented places around Caleb’s fingertips were washed of blood, a paler shade of lavender, and warm – so warm – to the touch. Gently, Caleb squeezed Molly’s thighs, his tail twitching reflexively as Caleb looked him over appreciatively. One hand moved to gingerly trace the line of Molly’s cock where it lay against his stomach, which twitched at the touch.

“ _Caleb!_ ” Molly practically whined. “Stop _teasing_.”

Caleb clucked his tongue as Molly wriggled beneath him anxiously, and then, only for the requisite moment, closed his eyes and imagined.

“Caleb _look at me, please, oh my gods_.”

When Caleb did as Molly asked, the two jars he’d imagined were sitting on the ground beside him. He lifted one, removing the glass top. “You are so beautiful, Mollymauk. I want to worship you, mein Schatz. Please, tell me, would you mind if I showed you how much?”

Molly narrowed his eyes. “What’d you think up?”

Biting his lip a little, Caleb ducked, blushing deeply, and stuck a finger into the jar. “Shut your eyes.”  

“What are you-“

Caleb pressed his finger to Molly’s lips, urging the sticky substance into his mouth.

“Mmm.” Molly opened his eyes. “Honey! _Please_ tell me you’re going to kiss me n-“ Caleb muffled his words by doing exactly that, licking into Molly’s mouth. When he pulled back, Caleb drew his thumb over Molly’s lip, swiping up a lingering drop of honey before pressing it into Molly’s mouth. He sucked on the digit, laving his tongue at the pad of Caleb’s thumb.

“Ja, Schatz, gut, gut…”

His thumb came away with a pop. “Is this alright?” Caleb asked, tilting the jar over Molly’s chest.

“Oh, gods, yes!” Molly’s back arched at the first drop of cool golden honey over his lilac skin and Caleb chased it with his kisses, nips and licks, drizzling more honey as he went, sucking on honey sweetened nipples, one by one, laving down his stomach and ever closer to the apex of his thighs. It left Molly trembling and keening, and left Caleb smiling through his kisses. He surged up again, sharing the honey left on his lips with Molly through a lingering kiss.

Molly, whose hands had lately been clawing at the grass, instead took to Caleb’s hair, pulling him ever closer in desperation.

“Ich liebe dich, Mollymauk,” Caleb managed between breaths. “I am meant for you. In all lives. Somehow.”

“Beloved…”

Caleb pressed one last kiss to Molly’s lips before sitting back on his haunches and lifting the other jar in hand, dousing his fingers with the oil.

“Shhh, you don’t have to wait any more.” Caleb stroked Molly’s cheek and settled his attention lower, circling his fingers over Molly’s entrance. “I will give you whatever you want. Just ask, and it is yours, Liebling.”

“ _Please_ ,” Molly keened.

Caleb pressed the first fingers in, feeling the impossible silken heat of Molly’s body around him. As he crooked his fingers, Molly gasped, reaching out for Caleb as he shuddered at the intimacy of the touch.

“I am here, I am here, Mollymauk.” Caleb reached out a hand, twining it with Molly’s as he pressed in a second finger slowly, rubbing and scissoring them, searching out the place he know would light Molly’s senses aflame. Caleb took a moment to glance him over, to really look at the expression on his face, lips parted ever so slightly, little puffs of breath punching out of him with each moment of Caleb’s fingers, cheek flush, chest rising and falling shakily. “You…oh Molly, you are, you are-”

“Getting… _hnn…_ impatient, Caleb!”

He couldn’t help himself. Caleb laughed, the vibrations causing Molly to jerk his hips anxiously. Wordlessly, Caleb conceded, withdrawing his fingers and eliciting a sharp whine from his lover. Hands shaking, Caleb stroked himself a few times before pressing the head against Molly’s entrance.

“C’mon, c’mon, c’mon, c’m _nnnnnn-_ “ Molly went breathless as Caleb pushed his hips forward slowly. The sensations almost too much so soon after having already come once before, regardless of his current state. Dreams were one thing, but the mind expected others, and balancing the two wasn’t exactly eas-

“Stop thinking, Caleb.” Molly stroked the hair hanging in Caleb’s face back behind his ear. “Feel, beloved. Just feel.”

And Caleb did.

His hips settled against Molly’s ass, and he stopped there, allowing Molly time to adjust, allowing himself to be pulled down so their foreheads were touching, and, when Molly hooked his ankles over the backs of Caleb’s legs, he drew outwards, the drag agonizing for them both, before driving back in, the tip of his cock rubbing over Molly’s prostate. As their rhythm picked up, Caleb lost himself further to the touch of Molly all around him, holding him in every way, the light scratch of his nails on Caleb’s back counterpoint to the pleasure, keeping him from going completely under.

Molly was speaking, breathy, half-formed words that Caleb hadn’t the presence of mind to identify, if even they were in a language he could understand. Dropping closer, their chests and stomachs touching, with Molly’s untended cock dragging lightly between them, Caleb hung his head by Molly’s shoulder, his muscles straining to hold himself up as the passion sparked between them, driving his hips harder into Molly, who vainly pitched his own up in short aborted thrusts. Caleb felt something building in his chest – not the desire he already felt, which was a tightly coiled spring in his abdomen, threatening to release tension at any moment – but something else, something nearer his heart, with fair _ached_ with the emotion. Molly’s arms were around him then, stunting his movements, but Caleb didn’t care, because their closeness was the only thing that mattered. Urgency spread through him as he realized that this was all he might ever have: a beautiful dream, but a dream none the less. A war within, to drag things out, or to see them even more quickly to completion, had begun.

“Don’t think, Caleb, don’t think. Be he- _hh_ -re with me. Be here-“ Molly’s voice tickled by Caleb’s ear, grounding him. “Stay, stay, Caleb, sta-“ Caleb managed to hit the bundle of nerves again, punching the breath of out Molly as he did, who, despite his words, spurred Caleb on.

He picked up the pace, shutting his eyes, burning furiously hot, pistoning his hip harshly into Molly, driving relentless towards their completion. He pressed in close, allowing as much friction as possible for Molly to slide against. All words were lost between them then, both on the chase to one another’s completion. Against his chest, Caleb could feel Molly’s heart racing, in harmony to his own, strong and true. It was all so overwhelming, and he didn’t know where it had come from, this tumult of emotions, but it was too much. Caleb slid a hand between their stomachs to rub a finger over the head of Molly’s cock, beaded and dripping slick with pre-spend. Molly shuddered; it was enough for them both. Caleb’s deft touch and the clench of Molly’s muscles around him one final time pitched them both over the edge, one after the other, into bliss. Caleb sank his weight into Molly, unable to hold himself up.

For a while, neither of them moved. And then, Caleb felt a tickle on his back, and arms. And legs. He shifted, lifting his head, and saw that the sky was full of drifting blossoms, suddenly dropping from the sapling, new flowers bursting into bloom just as quickly.

Pushing himself up on shaky forearms, Caleb finally caught a glimpse of Molly’s blissed out face. His eyes were shut, long dark lashes fluttering prettily over his cheekbones, face flushed dark palatinate, lips parted still, as he shuddered in the aftershocks.

A blossom fell to his cheek, and another three into his mussed hair.

“Molly?”

“Hmmm.”

“The tree, Molly…”

“Mhmmm.”

"Did you...?"

"You're still...hmmmmm. Too articulate, beloved..."

The air was heady with pollen and sweet nectar scent, but Caleb only let himself fall forward nosing at Molly’s pulse lazily, filling himself with the scent of _Jasmin_ that trailed after the nymph wherever he went. All the same, Caleb was careful not to rest his full weight on Molly again. “If I am too articulate for you, Liebchen, then you should do something about it,” he teased, pressing a kiss to Molly’s jaw. He heard more than saw Molly swallow.

“I think that could be arranged.” Molly took him by the shoulders, lifting him a bit, and smiled, mischievously. “On your back, darling, unless you’d rather lay some way else.”

“Nein.” Caleb slipped, softened, from within Molly and rolled to his back, relishing in the cool of the grass against his hot back, the emotions still thrilling through him overpoweringly.

Molly didn’t raise himself up, only rolling a bit to face Caleb, mischief dissipating as he truly took in Caleb’s expression. “Are you alright, dear?”

“Ja.” Caleb blinked. “I am only missing you. Is that silly? You are here with me and yet you are not, and I am missing you all the same.”

“Oh, Caleb.” Molly reached out to touch his cheek, damp with tears he hadn’t known he shed. “Can’t you feel me, Caleb? Isn’t that real? Are dreams so very far from the world? Don’t they impact you, even when you leave them? How is that anything less than reality, my beloved?”

The earnest look on Molly’s face left Caleb a whole different sort of breathless. “It isn’t,” he replied, trying to sound like he meant it. “It isn’t less.”

Molly’s thumb caressed his cheek gently. “There we are, darling, my Caleb. There we are.” His free hand ran tantalizing up and down Caleb’s side, until the tenseness faded. “I’m going to take you, slowly, love. You’ll feel how real it is, I’ll make sure of it. Even when you wake, you’ll know. Let me take care of you, beloved?”

Caleb could only nod, mystified, held gently in place by the gentle hands of Mollymauk. When all touch to his side ceased, Caleb felt a gentle chill. It didn’t last long, for that hand painted Molly’s lips with honey before he leaned down to kiss Caleb, sweet and sticky and sensuous. When he pulled away, his mouth was replaced with fingers, which Caleb sucked clean happily.

“This was a delicious idea, beloved,” he murmured, reaching for the other jar. “Are you ready, now?”

Nodding again, Caleb focused on willing himself hard, despite the rationality that told him it should be possible. Molly’s fingers traced up the underside of his cock, and he shivered, fully aroused despite everything that said he shouldn’t be.

“There, that wasn’t so difficult, was it?”

“N-nei-n-nein.” Caleb watched with interest as Molly – who still kept on hand’s worth of contact on Caleb at all times, for which he was immensely grateful – dipped his fingers into the little jar of oil.

“Look at you! So relaxed!” Molly’s smile was like a warming sun, and Caleb, like a yearning flower, leaned into his pleasant touch as Molly slowly began to rub small circles with the pad of his finger at Caleb’s entrance. “It makes my heart sing, Caleb. _You_ make my heart sing. You make me happy beyond belief. I love you!” The exclamation was soft, and tender, almost a whisper, and Caleb shuddered as desire built once more in his abdomen. “You are so dear to me, my best beloved,” Molly continued. “My Caleb. My Caleb who crosses realms to be with me in his dreams. Brave and true and beautiful. I wish you could see yourself, spread out here on the grass for me, like a flame burning on an emerald sea.” He brushed the hair over Caleb’s forehead away just as he exerted a hair more pressure with his other hand. “I’m a wanton, but you’re so patient for me. See, beloved? There’s no rush. There’s no fear, no deadline. There’s only this, right now, there’s only you and I.”

Molly’s finger pressed in, but Caleb barely felt it. He was boneless under Molly’s grip, under his ministrations, his careful touch. He could only let Molly do as he willed. The finger within him crooked suddenly and he whined a bit. Molly caught his jaw, held him softly still, carrying him through the wave. “There we are, Caleb. There we are…”

A second finger joined the first, and then a third, moving so slowly he was practically sobbing for the gentleness of the touches.

“I could ask you to come right now, Caleb. Would you like that?” Molly asked, sultry, taking him completely off guard. The noise he made was incomprehensible. “Would you like it? I would gladly bury myself deep inside you afterwards, hold you close, bring to you the brink again and again, as many times as you want, my love. As many times as you could handle.”

It was hard to figure where to put his attention, on the fingers stretching him with a pleasant ache or the words that sent coiling pulses of pleasure through him, but it was all Caleb could do to lick his lips and breath his plea.

“Come, Caleb,” Molly said, fingers ghosting over his prostate.

He came, instantaneously, and when his focus regenerated, he looked down the length of his own body, over the remnants of his spend to where Molly’s hand disappeared between his thighs, fingers still moving, minutely, stroking within him, and watched himself come back to arousal.

“There we are, Caleb.” Molly was grinning, feline again in his satisfaction. “Now you’re getting it. Endless possibilities. Let me make you feel good, beloved.”

When Molly’s fingers left him, Caleb could help but reach out, feeling bereft, but he didn’t have to wait long before Molly’s cock pressed easily into his inviting body. All at once, Caleb felt full and sated, and desperate, the myriad emotions leaving him blinking, clawing the ground, his mind a pleasant throb of _lovelovemollylovemollymollylovelovelove_ as the nymph began to thrust slowly into him, slow, measured thrusts that left him shaking for the firmness of their pressure in counteraction to the lack of speed. He felt every shock, ever catch of Molly’s cock over his prostate, just as keenly as he first and the second and every one after.

After one particularly hard, slow thrust, Caleb shut his eyes, and when he opened them again, the daylight was gone, cresting low as twilight sped through the sky and the moon, full and glowing bright white shone down over them. One of Molly’s hands gripped his shoulder, the other his hip as he suddenly began to lose himself, the timing of his hips stuttering, breaths coming in hard pants. While Caleb’s own arousal was hazy and gentle at best – an incredible feeling – it was clear that Molly had reached his breaking point, head bowed, focus on the slick drag of their bodies moving together.

Caleb let go, the orgasm washing over him like a gentle wave, muscles rippling and contracting as Molly fucked him through his pleasure. And he would feel it, aching and perfect, real or not, because there, in that moment, Caleb knew that his brain was convinced.

And if his brain could believe that this was real, that was all it would take.

He pulled Molly closer, kissing his lips and jaw. “Schatz, mein Schatz, come for me,” he begged. “Come in me, stay in me, be with me.”

With a strangled cry, Molly came, spilling hot within Caleb. Behind him was the shining moon, and there, a spectacular sight that filled Caleb with twofold awe, as the still drifting blossoms suddenly transformed, their petals unfurling into luminescent shimmering wings, and tens of butterflies took flight within the midnight glade as Molly rode out his pleasure.  

Spent, they lay together beneath the mood, languid and still, drenched in it’s silvery light. It took a long time before Caleb wished away the mess on their stomachs, though that was all. Hands and arms and legs tangled together, they drifted together comfortably, recovering. Eventually, Molly began to pet at his hair again, reaching without shifting overmuch for the blossoms that were growing in the circle around them, plucking a few.

“Caleb,” he said, the question implied, and without hesitation, Caleb sat, Molly settling himself cross legged behind him, fingers deftly threading the blossoms through Caleb’s hair, silvered bronze by the light of the moon. The touch was calming, and he felt his pulse throb low and slow, his breaths full and deep with the rhythm of Molly’s hands as he braided.

_“A forest of the creatures: was it of you? no?_

_monstrous beasts in the trees, birds flying the flood,_

_and I plucked a fish from a stream that flowed to that sea:_

_from you? for you? shall I drop the fish in your hand?_

_in your hand's pool? a bright-scaled, red-tailed fish_

_to dart and drive up the channel of your arm?_

_the channel of your arm, the piercing entry to a land_

_where, no matter how lordly at home is set the dish,_

_no net can catch it, nor hook nor gaff harm?_

_but it darts up the muscles of the arm, to swim_

_round the clear boulder of the shoulder, stung with spray,_

_and down the cataract of the backed spine leaps_

_into bottomed waters at once clear and dim,_

_where nets are fingered and flung on many a day;_

_yet it slides through the mesh of the mind and sweeps_

_back to its haunt in a fathomless bottomless pool;_

_is there a name then, an anagram of spirit and sense,_

_that Nimue the mistress of the wood could call it by?”_

Caleb’s words faded off into silence, the flora of the glade suffocating all other sounds. Molly hand long since ceased braiding, instead kissing the back of his neck, hands sweeping across the span of his shoulders, holding him from behind. As the poem ended, Molly sighed softly.

“I’ve never heard anything so…” Molly’s breath hitched and Caleb turned to see glimmering tears in his eyes. “What was it? It makes me feel so sad, but it’s terribly beautiful.”

“It is symbolic.” Caleb began, quietly, not quite willing to mar the ringing silence in the wake of Molly’s words. “The fish is love. Sir Bors loved Lady Elayne. He gifted her his love and worshiped her forever, and she him, for no one else could ‘catch’ their love.” He took Molly’s hand in his own, lifting it to his lips, and kissed it. “Such is my love for you, Mollymauk.”

“Oh, Caleb.” Molly leaned in, kissing him surely. “I could never doubt your love. Never. How can I assure you of the same?”

“You don’t have to. I know it alre-“

But he never got to finish his sentence, because, in that moment, Caleb woke up to his dark bedroom.

Alone.

Against his better instincts, he shut his eyes again, and nothing happened, he sobbed in frustration. Even so, the scent of _Jasmin_ hung in the air, and if he concentrated hard enough, he could feel the psychosomatic lingering ache of Molly between his legs. It was with that knowledge that he managed to fall asleep once more, though his arms felt empty and his heart sore.


	7. 6.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another new chapter! Check updated tags!
> 
> Thanks again to @PandaMeNope (https://twitter.com/pandamenope) for the art for this story! It's honestly? The best yet. 
> 
> Also, to Senor_Sparklefingers, who is my ever faithful beta and the best of friends.
> 
> Heads up that the next chapter will have NSFW content.

6.                                

“You are that one breath

that puts all the remaining breaths

into my body.”

~  Sanober Khan

 

 “Their life is mysterious, it is like a forest; from far off it seems a unity, it can be comprehended, described, but closer it begins to separate, to break into light and shadow, the density blinds one. Within there is no form, only prodigious detail that reaches everywhere: exotic sounds, spills of sunlight, foliage, fallen trees, small beasts that flee at the sound of a twig-snap, insects, silence, flowers.

And all of this, dependent, closely woven, all of it is deceiving. There are really two kinds of life. There is, as Viri says, the one people believe you are living, and there is the other. It is this other which causes the trouble, this other we long to see.”

~  James Salter, Light Years

 

Though it had only been around a week since Caleb moved into the little Brenatto ferien cabin, it was still as good as always to see home. That morning was relatively warm, considering, and so he dropped his bike in the garden, following the stone path underneath the archway to the back of the garden, round the side of the house. For a moment, he stopped, confused as to why the honeysuckle wasn’t yet in bloom, before shaking himself out of it. Molly’s glade worked far differently than the real-

Caleb cut himself off, not wanting to follow the thought through. Instead, he focused on how lush his parent’s garden had become in the scant few days since he’d last seen it.

“Hallo?” he called out. “Mutti? Bist du da? Vati?”

“Oh, hallo, Caleb!”

He rounded to corner to find his father and mother sitting in the sun on their little open patio, a pitcher of the lovely rose-coloured _rhabarbersaft_ on the table, along with a little basket of brötschen. The glass door behind them was cracked open and Caleb could hear the soft strains of a Loreena McKennitt cd filtering in from the sitting room.

“Sit, schatz,” his mother beckoned, to him with a smile. “How are you doing? Veth said she’s been checking on you?” There was just the hint of a waver to her voice, and the half shine of worry in her eyes.

“I am good. No more episodes.” And there hadn’t been. At least, in that, he was telling the truth.

“So,” his father began, placing a bookmark in the volume that was resting in his lap. “Are you thinking of going back to Uni then? Or are you going to stay longer, just to be sure?” He was about to answer when his father kept speaking instead, anxiousness evident. “You don’t want to rush these sort of things, Caleb, and we want you to be safe.”

“I know,” he said, finally taking the seat across from them, the cool breeze catching at his hair, tickling it over his shoulders. “I am not going back just yet. I have not had any more episodes, and I don’t think that is a worry anymore. Truly. It makes me unhappy to see you both so, over this.” He reached across the table to take his parents hands in his, his mother’s in his left and father’s in his right. “But there is something I need to deal with yet that is important and I cannot go back to Uni until I have handled it.”

“Of course, Caleb.” His father squeezed his hand. “Of course.”

“It involves asking both of you some questions, I am not so sure you will want to answer…” he hedged, shifting in his seat.

His mother frowned. “Caleb, what is this abou-“

“Bitte, I need for you to tell me the truth. How much did you know about the dreams I had as a young boy? The ones that I forgot about having had… The ones I asked you about before, that you claimed not to know about. With…with Bren Aldric Ermendrud.”

“Caleb-“

“Oh, Una. Enough. He obviously is already aware, why pretend.” Leofric’s hand slid away from his own and Caleb felt it’s loss acutely. “Pretending won’t protect him.”

Leofric crossed his arms and stared at Caleb. “Yes, you had the dreams as a boy, after you fell from the tree. You were always imaginative. We thought they were nothing. We encouraged you to play at it.”

“You have always been so creative, Liebchen.” Una reached her hand up to cup his cheek.

“We didn’t start to worry until the dreams became nightmares. We didn’t even really know they were dreams at all. Daydream, sure, but nightly visions…we didn’t realize…you-“

“You were screaming for us from your bedroom, and when we got to you, oh, mein Schatz.” Una’s lower lip was wobbling and her eyes were glossy with tears. Caleb could only swallow, knowing, instinctively, what it had been. “You were all tangled in the bedclothes…you…”

“Hush, Mama. I know what you speak of.”

“Then you understand why we were hesitant when you brought it up…” Leofric’s gaze was patient, if demanding.

“Ja.” He sighed. “I just…now that I am having them again, I want to understand them. I guess I was just hoping that you might still know things that I have not been able to recall, yet. I cannot go back until I understand this, Mutti, Vati. I can’t concentrate, can’t think of anything else, except to understand.”

His parents looked at one another, and he felt himself grow removed, as if a glass door had been shut between them and he was on the outside of the conversation looking in. Silently, they came to an agreement and glanced back to him in unison.

“There are some things that we have that you did not squirrel away to Veth’s.”

Caleb’s face must have done something, because his father, breaking the heavy mood abruptly, threw back his head in a deep laugh.

“Oh, Caleb, did you think we didn’t know what the two of you got up to as children?” He stood. “You are too solemn, son. They are only dreams. They came, they went, they came back, but they’re only memories of the dreams you used to have. When you were little, it worried us, because we thought you…”

“We thought you believed it was real.” Una said, a bit softer than was to Caleb’s liking. “You don’t…you don’t _now_ , though? It’s just the memories? You just want to have them back, ja? I know you don’t like not knowing, because you remember everything else.”

The rest of her words went unsaid, but Caleb could still hear the implication. All he could think about was the pleasant burn he still felt in the muscles of his thighs, and how, if he closed his eyes, he could still remember the precise way that Molly’s lips twitched upwards when he smiled. _He’s real. It’s all real. You will never believe you, but you don’t have to let them see._

“It is very hard not to know,” he confirmed, nodding. It was hard. It _was_.

“Well. Anything to help you remember then, ja? So that you can get back to your life?” Caleb’s father planted his hands on his knees and pushed himself up. “The things are in the attic. Komm mitt.”

Caleb made to follow Leofric, but his mother stood just as quickly, sliding her hand back into his. “Caleb. Liebschen. Bitte…”

“Mutti, Ich liebe dich,” he said, lifting her knuckle to his lips, kissing them gently. “I promise, I am all right now. Nothing. I have had nothing for this whole week, only dreams, and nothing more. You are not going to lose me to this.” Her eyes were still watery, so he pulled her into a tight hug. “Mama, oh, _mama_ , it’s alright. I know that I am not him. I know that I am me, Mama. I know that. But I need my memories. They are a part of me.”

She snuffed and petted at his hair, not leaving his embrace. “You are our _everything_ , Caleb.”

Her words bit him to the core, and his lies sat heavy in his gut, but he kissed her forehead and pulled away, keeping her hand firmly in his own as they followed his father to the attic ladder.

“You know,” Leofric said as he lowered the ladder from the ceiling. “It was around this time that you fell from the tree, wasn’t it Una? Wasn’t it the _Frühjahrs-Äquinoktium_? You and Veth were very interested in astronomy at the time, even if you didn’t really understand it all, you know. You can’t really see a vernal equinox, but you had to be up in that tree together on that day, all the same…Ah! There you go!”

The ladder came down and Leofric immediately headed up, Caleb not too far behind him, an itch worrying at the back of his skull.

Una wrung her hands. “You are sure you have to do this?”

“Mama, it will be fine.” Caleb stuck his head up into the attic, wriggling his nose to stifle a sneeze. “Come up with us?” he asked, looking back down. “Perhaps we will find other old things that will bring back fond memories, naja?”

“Well…” Una sighed. “Alright.”

When they were all above together, Leofric went to the little window and wiped the dusty glass with his sleeve, letting soft light filter into the room, illuminating dust motes in it’s intangible pillars. Caleb strayed between them, the phantasmal support columns to the museum of his family’s history, bound up in old hat boxes and decaying leather suitcases, and tethered volumes of worn velvet and brass hinges.

It smelled musty, like a good book from an old shelf, but Caleb tried not to breathe as deeply as he like when he nose was stuck in an ancient text, as opposed to a dusty old attic.

“Veth and I always wanted to play up here too, but perhaps it was a good thing that you did not let us.” He laughed, shaking a cobweb off his arm. “We would have needed baths if that were the case.”

Leofric was thumbing through a stack of old newspapers, while Una stood in place by the trapdoor, looking about as if for something she anticipated but could not easily see.

“Oh! Look, here, it’s your Opa, Caleb!” Leofric gestured excitedly, holding out an old newspaper clipping. “Standing next to his record setting sunflowers! Look how tall they were! By Gott! I had forgotten that.” He pushed the fragile paper into Caleb’s sightline. “See! They had to have a picture of him next to them, for reference.”

Caleb took the clipping, holding the delicate thing carefully in his hands. There was his Opa, with his thick, black rimmed glasses, his pure white hair combed just right, and his perfect, though crooked, smile. Grinning back at him for a moment, Caleb sighed and then passed it back to his mother to look. “He was so proud of those flowers. I remember when that photo was taken. It seems ages ago, now.”

“He would be very proud of _you_ , Caleb,” Leofric said, resting his hand on Caleb’s shoulder. “Now, lets see if we can find your things.

Una put the newspaper aside with a fond smile and began helping the men look through the boxes. It wasn’t too difficult to identify boxes that were newer from those that were older and eventually they found one that was labeled ‘CFW’.

Within, school paper were numerous, and early drawing and scraps of poetry from contests and –

“Oh, that one!” Una shouldered between them, grabbing an old, very tattered faux leather journal. “This, I remember this. You said you were writing a history of that place…you, you called it, ah-“

“Exandria.”

“Ja, that’s it!” She held it out to him and he took it, carefully. “I don’t know why we ever let you buy this journal. Leofric, you could have made him a better one, this is falling apart!”

“Basta, you! I did make him one. When he was older.”

“Your excuse always was that he’d take better care of things when he was older, but he was always so good with them to begin with. _You_ were just _lazy_.”

“Are you saying you want me to start making journals again?”

“Well I-“

But Caleb wasn’t listening to their good natured bickering. Caleb was too busy fondling the cover, lost in the tumult of memories that filled the haze of his brain. It was pockmarked and scarred from being shoved into drawers and dropped from tree branches, or the ladder that led to Veth’s roof, and tossed into his school satchel with loose pens and pencils. It had been cheap and he’d treated it cheaply, taking it with him everywhere. He thought back to the journals his father had made (many of them, now) how they sat so nicely on his desk, beautiful but empty, like some vapid insta-model.

There was history in the notebook he held in his hands. A desperate sort of history, that spoke of frantic moments when he’d had to hide it from his parents. From his teachers. From Wulf.

He cracked it open, mindful, but still the glue – old and dried – betrayed him and the pages slid from their confines into his arms haphazardly. By some miracle, he didn’t drop a one of them, but shuffled them back into place before turning a few pages, looking at his old, miniscule writing, near indecipherable, even if it wasn’t in his strange, personal shorthand. Dark ink, inconsistent sizes, but with a very particular cut to the lines, angled and tedious.

 _Yes,_ Caleb thought to himself. _There I am._ That young, trembling child with the too large smile and the too long hair, and the too big imagination to match.

Fondly, Caleb closed the cover and held the journal to his chest.

“Danke, Vati, Mutti,” he muttered, but they had moved from their conversation about leatherworking to a set of old photos. Leaving them completely engrossed, Caleb descended the ladder and walked back out into the glorious morning sun. He stuffed the journal in his pack and went to his bike, eyes narrowed, but mind far, far away from his home, and in no time at all he was back on his bike, heading past town and straight for the beautiful green depths of _Jasmund_.

 

Caleb had read through – as best as he was able – the journal from almost cover to cover by the time he had to turn on the interior lamp in order to see. Pages and pages of his chicken scratch covered many of the memories that he’d already had returned, but in greater depth of detail in many cases. They were time and date stamped, much to his amusement, though not his surprise. It was fascinating to see how little he’d changed for having lost all of his memories. Meticulous and precise, some of the later entries even began to explore the various theories he had regarding the nature of the dreams.

_23 Juni 2007_

_3:00 am_

_My dream tonight was incredible. If it can be called a dream. It’s so real! I don’t know why_ I’m _the one getting them. It doesn’t make a lot of sense, but I keep seeing more and more! I wish I could be there. But I don’t want to be him. Bren. His world is so much more fascinating than mine, but his life... I want to learn magic. I want to be able to speak strange languages, like Celestial. I have started to compose a dictionary of celestial words that Bren knows. It’s pretty cool. I wonder if I only hear him in German because I am German, or if his language is also German?_

_There are so many things that I want to know, but I don’t know how I will ever know them! The dreams always cut off at the worst times and I feel like I’m missing something big, but I don’t know what._

_Mutti and Vati don’t like it. They definitely think I’m crazy or something. Nottchen doesn’t mind at all. I’m not sure if she really believes me, but she likes to play at Exandria with me anyways. She told me that, if she lived in Bren’s world, she’d be a Halfling. Then it would make sense why she’s so short._

_I told her that the best things come in small packages. That’s what Mutti always says._

 

Caleb put the journal down, smiling genially at his younger self. There was still time enough left that he could have finished it, but other things were on his mind. As the light grew lesser, Molly and his glade grew nearer. More than anything, Caleb wanted to return, wanted to run into Molly’s arms and tell him that he’d been right, that if Caleb wanted it bad enough, it would be real. That dreams and life weren’t so divided as he’d thought.

He pulled the chain on the lamp stand next to the bed and rolled over onto his stomach, smashing his face into the pillows, shutting his word-tired eyes to the soothing abyss of night static, while he waited desperately for the world to blossom with green and vibrant life, to feel the cool, sponge of moss beneath his feet as he stepped into the glade.

Eventually, sleep came to him.

The glade, however, didn’t.

He was left utterly discombobulated as the coloured smoke of memories coalesced beneath him, and he came to rest in a by now familiar space. A swath of loose papers and books covered the desk. Errant splotches of dried wax had accumulated around the base of several candlesticks, and the comforting purr of Frumpkin resounded in Caleb’s ears. Hands that were his, though not his, moved of their own accord, shuffling papers aside, leaning in to catch faded runic letters scrawled across the aged, delicate remnants of parchment. The closer he looked, the more the strange symbols started to form something more than an illegible amalgam.

_A Mystic from that order of esoteric priests, heralded_

_The Claret, from without Xhorahaas came, a band of followers_

_In his wake, who proclaimed his prophecies, each and all_

_To be incontrovertible._

_Drew ire from those current rulers of the land, for worship_

_Of false gods, of light and fire and rebirth, and a bloody chase_

_Ensued to ensure the Mystic would not convert those_

_Who, to follow him, chose._

_Cruel violence brought that Mystic down upon the Empire’s_

_Soldiers and mages all, with ancient curses unknown from ancient_

_Being’s thrall, to bleed withal from their loyal bodies, life and sight_

_And the soul to curse with blight._

_Angered by the spread of the Seer-Devil’s proclamations,_

_Imperial word was sent out to certain factions that he should_

_Be removed swift, and his followers permanently be silenced,_

_In bloody retaliation to find balance._

_Huntes and slaughtered – meticulous, the Empire’s war-mages -_

_Were the Acolytes of his faith – Nine by Nine - they fell, til none remained_

_Save He, stalked clear across the land to ancient fae-bright willow-tree,_

_Cornered, that Vernal Eve made thrilling stand, and did not flee._

_Yet for all their strength, would not that Devil die, and so, instead_

_They caged the Zealot Lord there for time indeterminant with woven threads_

_Of magic in powerful and proven imagery of unyielding arcane shape_

_Within the confines of that tree, fell he to Fate._

_And so remains within, as an Oracle to those who demand his Sight_

_Bound by Fae laws and arcane obligation, to regard the Rule of One, an answer_

_For a question, unwillingly made to serve the interests of his enemy_

_For the duration of his tenancy._

_“Mollymauk…”_ Caleb heard himself say. _“Oh, my Molly.”_ He lifted his hand to pinch the bridge of his nose, before setting aside the parchment, to reach for a map, which he eyed with interest, only half a seconds time, for as he did, the scene faded away.

At first, there was nothing to see, only sound. The frantic pounding of hooves into the ground. Then, slowly, the world opened up before him. The horse he was on was moving impossibly fast across the barren plain, and, though he didn’t understand exactly why, his heart was racing, as if attuned to the pace of the gallop. A sense of urgency, born not of himself, but of some long dormant past memory, a self that Caleb only knew from dreams, filled him, and he and Bren, suddenly, were co-existing as one, a simultaneous being; for everything Bren felt, Caleb did too, but without context.  
  
  
  
  
  


 

 

It was an awful thing, to feel such extreme fear without having the reasoning to understand it. Fear-adrenaline flooded his bloodstream and Caleb/Bren urged the horse to move faster along the path, familiar, well-trod, and yet, brand new.

By instinct, Caleb/Bren ducked an incoming branch and suddenly, just as fast as he was able to blink, a forest was upon him, growing thicker, wilder, older in mere moments than any woods Caleb/Bren had ever known before. And then, he realized where he was.

He knew the forest. He knew where he was heading.

The Tree.

Mollymauk’s Willow tree.

When he finally pulled the reins to a halt, Caleb/Bren, slid off the horse to find its flanks foaming with sweat. It nickered at him and snorted, breathing heavily, its sides heaving, but he spared only the time to wrap the lead around a low branch before starting into the grove.

It was different that he knew it should be, matching far better the world around it than it usually. Caleb/Bren closed his eyes and slowed his pulse, breaths coming deep and even, in through his nose and out through his mouth. Step by step, he grew closer to the curtain of long, flexible willow whips. He drew aside the curtain to reveal the tree, and there, settled in its branches as the first time he had seen him, was Mollymauk.

The light beneath the willow was diffused bright in an unnatural way, just like it always was. When Molly turned to him, Caleb/Bren could see the joy rise across his features.

 _“Bren!”_ he called. _“I was hoping I would see you today, how are-“_

But Caleb/Bren cut him off, rushing forward, the branches swaying behind him as he let them fall. _“There is little time, schätzchen. I rode as fast as I could. I have to free you now.”_

 _“Now?”_ Molly looked at him quizzically. _“You said there was all the time in the world? What’s happened? Why now?”_

 _“I have made a mistake!”_ The anguish in his voice was palpable, and almost surprising. He strode to the foot of the tree and grasped onto one of the lower branches, hauling himself up beside Mollymauk.   _“Bitte, forgive me. I was so foolish. Foolish, and now, I fear you will pay the price.”_

_“Price? What price? Bren, slow down, what are you talking ab-“_

_“I need to free you, and I need to do it now. There is no time to waste. I said the wrong thing to the wrong person and now they are going to come for you, and if I cannot free you, I fear what they will do with your gifts.”_

_“Bren,”_ Molly lifted his head by the chin and Caleb/Bren gazed into the depths of his lover’s eyes, garnet under the cover of the growing night. _“I’m not afraid,”_ Molly said. _“I trust you.”_

_“Perhaps you shouldn’t.”_

Caleb/Bren’s reply elicited an immediate response, the sharp turn of a head, the concerned look on his face, but he allowed Molly no time to react, clambering back down from the tree, Molly in hot pursuit.

_“What are you doing?! Bren! Stop!”_

But it was too late. Already, Caleb/Bren’s hands were weaving through the air, a sapphire from his pocket held aloft in one of them, as he muttered in a language that sounded both foreign and familiar to his ears, fell fluidly from his lips, though he only half understood how. The sapphire floated out from his palm into the air, spinning gentle, prismatic light beams streaming out from its center. Caleb/Bren was still muttering the words, as Molly watched on, eyes wide with terror.

_“Bren, please, what are you- what’s hap-“_

The sapphire began to spin, faster and faster. Caleb/Bren’s hand, which had been held out towards the gem, fell to his side as he dropped to his knees at the foot of the tree, the colour slowly ebbing away from his vision. He felt weakened, could hear his pulse throb in his ears, loud and slow, but still he held the spell.

 _“I can free you, Molly.”_ Caleb/Bren ground out. “ _I know… I can.”_

 _“Bren, stop! Stop!”_ A slender, lilac hand reached towards him, but he hadn’t the strength to grasp it. “ _It’s not worth you!”_ Molly cried.

In the distance, Caleb/Bren could hear the approaching hoof falls, the frantic whinny of horses ridden hard, following his path. Rapidly, his energy was fading away. He couldn’t do it. The spell wasn’t ready, the kinks not quite worked out, the sapphire not large enough, or he was not powerful enough, or everything in conjunction. Something. There was no time for him to contemplate it. The strength was ebbing out of him faster than he could channel it into the spell. _“Quick! Into the tree!”_

Molly did as he said, but not without turning to look back. _“Bren...”_

_“Go, Molly. Go and know that I love you.”_

He watched, simultaneously distraught and relieved, as Mollymauk, still glancing back down to him with anguish contorting his lovely face, climbed further up into the lowing boughs of the ancient willow, and disappeared into the shadowed cover of night.

 _“I am sorry, Molly,”_ he whispered to the empty night, holding the image of his beloved’s smiling face in his mind as he closed his eyes. _“Please, forgive me.”_

The riders were growing closer. He could hear their shouts, even identify their voices. With a final shove of his magic towards the tree, Caleb/Bren willed the spell to do as much as it would, desperate. If he could not save Mollymauk, he would die trying. The arcane energy flooded out of him in a flash, bursting against the night with a sharp crack and Caleb/Bren slumped against the trunk of the tree, leaned up against it.

Suddenly, Caleb was within and without.

A shadow’s ghost, he stood watching his corpse – or Bren’s, rather – as he began to…to change.

Shocked and more than a little shaken, Caleb finally understood. From below, roots shot up, curling over legs and arms, drawing them downwards, circling and encompassing and subsuming him. As his legs become roots, the bark of the tree cracked loudly, the earth rumbling. Caleb watched on in terror and awe as the tree moved itself to accommodate the corpse. Inch by inch it was drawn back into the tree. The flesh started to harden and almost petrify, cracking and caving until it was fragmented almost beyond recognition, its surface rough, darkening from pale cream to a greying brown.   
  
Like bark.

 

 

 

 

The tree cracked one final time, fitting around the corpse, merging with it completely.

Bren was gone.

Only the tree remained.

Caleb couldn’t turn his attention away from the base of the tree – the tree that was also Bren – feeling his stomach drop out from under him in fear, Molly’s warning ringing in the back of his head, and wondered, if he could find the will within himself to move his feet, and climbed the tree, would he see Molly there, hidden amidst the branches, tear tracks staining his beautiful face.

But, before he could try, the world dissipated from around him.

He woke gasping, shooting up in his bed, only to fall back hard onto the pillow, chest heaving as he mentally catalogued all of the things which he had just learned. Slowly, in his muddled mind, the pieces came together.

With a violent movement, Caleb whipped the covers off and rushed to the desk, pulling out a blank sheet of drawing paper which he threw down on the desk before rummaging through the drawer for a pencil. Fast as he could, and accurately as he was able, Caleb recreated the map that he’d seen Bren reach for in the dream, and then, pulling over a notebook, wrote word for word the _historiæ poeticæ_ as he’d read it, muttering the words under his breath as he wrote.

“- that Vernal Eve…oh.” Caleb stopped, the pencil falling from his hand. "Oh nein. Nein, nein, nein, nein!" He ran to his bedside table, pulling up the calendar in his phone.

_March 20th Vernal Equinox._

"Nein, nein, nein, _Molly,_ oh _fick_."

Three days. Less than a week! It all made sense, suddenly. Terrible awful sense and he felt it rushing up his throat. Quickly, he put a hand over his mouth, stifling the sound, if only so he wouldn't have to hear it himself. The dates made sense. The veil would be thin then, between the realms. As prime a time to trap him as to free him.

But it wouldn't be nearly long enough to find out how.

Wretchedly, Caleb sobbed, head in his hands as he fell back to sit on the bed, the sky still dark outside his window.

For a while, all he could do was sit and lament, wishing desperately to be able to fall back asleep and directly into Mollymauk's arms, where he would feel safe and loved, protected without worries or cares in the gentle embrace of his lover, surrounded by the comfort of the woods.

Abruptly, Caleb lifted his head from his hands. "Oh. _Oh._ "

The map.

His backpack was on the ground near the bed and he rifled through its contents for the map of Jasmund. He unfolded it hastily and rushed to the desk, ripping from it the drawing and compared the two, spreading them out flat on the bed.

The relief flooded through him so headily that Caleb barked a laugh, falling back into the chair. The shapes he'd drawn, however crudely, matched those of the Jasmund map, which meant that the tree-

“It is in the same place. Ach, Gott im Himmel, it’s in the same place!” Elated, Caleb pressed the maps to his chest and shut his eyes tightly. “I’m coming, Mollymauk,” he said, softly, earnestly. “I’m coming. I promise you, I will succeed where Bren could not. I will free you. I will bring you home. I promise you. I _promise you_.”  

With hours still until a reasonable time of the morning, Caleb roughly charted a path onto the Jasmund map before piling together his things and then laying down once more, content to go to sleep again in the knowledge that Molly would be waiting for him, and he finally had a real, definitive plan.

The sun was warm on his shaven cheek, and Caleb felt cozy in a way he hadn’t since the last time Molly held him in his arms. Loath to open his eyes, as though he might lose the sensation, Caleb rolled a little, burrowing more deeply under the covers.

Covers.

Bed.

Pillow.

His lazy comfort vanished and Caleb opened his eyes, a terribly, nervous feeling in his gut. The familiar sight of his bedroom met him once again, the same as it was hours earlier, prepared for an excursion into the woods to find Molly’s tree.

Molly.

It hit Caleb like a gut punch.

 _He hadn’t dreamed_.

He hadn’t dreamed at all.

The bubbling feeling in his stomach worsened, and Caleb noticed an absence, a lonely, aching emptiness that filled the space. It was then that he realized the air was suddenly absent of the cloying scent of _jasmin_ , to which Caleb had lately grown so accustomed.

As if…

As if Molly were gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote the poem myself, feel free to critique. Yes, that's Lucien's history.


	8. 7.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains NSFW beginning after the picture. 
> 
> Thanks as always to Senor_Sparklefingers and pandamenope for the beta and the lovely art.

7.

“May your love for me be

like

the scent of the evening sea

 

drifting in

through a quiet window

 

so i do not have to run

or chase or fall

... to feel you

 

all i have to do

is

breathe.”

~ Sanober Khan, A Thousand Flamingos

 

“And beyond the Wild Wood again?' he asked. 'Where it's all blue and dim and one sees what may be hills or perhaps they mayn't and something like the smoke of towns or is it only cloud drift.'

'Beyond the Wild Wood comes the Wild World,' said the Rat. 'And that's something the doesn't matter either to you or me.”

~ Kenneth Grahame, The Wind in the Willows

 

“For above all things Love means sweetness, and truth, and measure; yea, loyalty to the loved one and to your word.”

~ Marie de France

 

The path through the wood was beyond familiar to Caleb, so often had he traversed those same walkways, trying his best to wander unintentionally into Molly’s glade, passing between the veil of realms. Around him, the air buffeted cool, and the occasional dapple of the sun was warm, and soft, like Molly’s smiles, and the scent of pollen and sap and wood – though not one hint of _jasmin_ – spiced the surroundings enticingly. Easily, he could become lost within, following his feet where they led, though never to where he hoped they would take him.

But, as he stepped beyond that path, off into the underbrush, holding the layered maps aloft, the smallest hope flickered as a flame in his heart that he may finally have the answer. That it might not be too late.

That he would finally feel the real weight of Molly’s hand held within his own.

With his perfect memory, Caleb had plotted out the path from the dream memory, piecemeal. On foot, it was slow going, and the day grew warmer and warmer. The backpack trapped the heat between his skin and his shirt, but the wind was chill and he let his hair down to warm the back of his neck and his ears. Step for step, he worked a path through the forest, new to Jasmund, but old to his mind.

When he allowed himself to really contemplate the logistics, the rationality of it fell apart. There were no willows in Jasmund, only beeches and a few other varieties, so one part of him theorized that it was possible Molly’s tree was not the same in this world as in Exandria. The other part lamented that it would be just as difficult to find, potentially, were it a lone, singular willow tree amidst miles of beeches.

Numerous times he paused to check the map, heedless of how tired his knees were growing, or of the tightness in his shoulders, or the tiredness of his eyes. As undisturbed as his second length of sleep had been, it was anything but restful to wake worried and unawares. Without the dreams, Molly was inaccessible. Without the lingering scent of _jasmin_ , Caleb felt abandoned. And with the vernal equinox growing ever closer, it only felt like Molly grew ever farther away.

Forcefully, he pushed the fear away.

Fear would do him no good. Only hope and love would be his strengths, like a knight on a mission. Steadfast, like Bor. Valiant, like Gawaine.

He kept walking.

An hour passed. Then two. Three.

Beeches were everywhere. The light was low and the atmosphere a deep green in glow. Nothing like the glade.

 _Foolish_ , Caleb scoffed to himself. “You’re no knight. And no knight would be able to do this either. You’re just you, and you have no magic, not like Bren, and what good did it do him? He’s a tree! He turned into a _fucking tree_ and Mollymauk is still chained where he was then, so many hundreds of years ago. What can you do? What can _you_ do?”

Frustrated, Caleb shoved his pack off his shoulders to the ground and sat cross-legged, unfolding the maps once again. A few mental calculations showed that he wasn’t too far from the place he was searching for, and yet, a flicker of doubt coiled in his stomach that he wouldn’t be able to find it, regardless.

“You will _never_ find him this way, dummkopf,” he berated himself, halfheartedly, before marking the map and standing again. “He is counting on you. He is probably wondering where you are, and you are sitting here, moping while he waits!” Caleb hefted the pack back onto his shoulders. “You will find this tree. You will find Molly. You will bring him back. You will. You _will_.”

 _You have to_.

Another hours travel had him stepping into a clearing. The enormous, ancient beech trees thinned, and the sun was streaming down just beyond their limit as Caleb looked out into the grassy space, empty as if waiting for something.

For someone.

A few flowers dotted the space, but not nearly so much as he could recall from his visits to Molly’s glade, and certainly not of so varied a range, but the quality of the light was the same. Caleb felt it in his core, could close his eyes, and overlay the memory of the glade over the clearing. His soul settled, but the nerves remained. This was the place. He was sure of it.

Three days to plan and strategize and prepare. Three days to find a way between the veils and free Molly for good or it would be too late to do it at all.

He’d waited two lifetimes.

He could wait three days

Determinedly, Caleb settled his pack down again and made up his mind. He’d leave his things here for now, return to the cabin, get the rest of his camping supplies, and set up shop. He wasn’t about to leave and risk the chance of missing out on Molly. And if the park workers found him, well, they’d have a hard time convincing him to go.

Nothing was going to get between them again.

Just as Caleb turned to leave, his cell phone rang.

_Beauregard Lionett_

“Nein. Not right now.” He pressed ignore. “Later. Later when I have something to show for it.”

And with that, Caleb stepped off into the woods once more, equal parts reluctant and urgent, for as little as he wanted to leave, the more quickly he went, the more quickly he could return, and then, there would be a chance to save Molly, and that was all that mattered.

* * *

That night, it rained, sheets of the torrent slamming down onto the fragile roof of Caleb’s tent with such vicious force that he could not sleep even if he had tried. The spring storm’s lightning lit up the sky, and the shadows of the wildly whipping tree branches threw volatile shadows above him. Unable to tear his eyes away, Caleb watched the shadow-play with great attention, his imagination running wild. Logically, he knew that it was all in his head, that his mind was tired from lack of sleep, from stress, from nerves, but he couldn’t help but imagine them as terrible claws, reaching out for him from beyond the veil, seeking to pull him farther and farther away from Molly. In the storm, there was only the scent of ozone and electricity and cold; no _jasmin_ came to soothe him.

It rained through the night, so hard and long and dark that only Caleb’s innate sense of time indicated to him that it should be light out. His teeth chattered and he pulled the sleeping bag more tightly around himself, closing his eyes and murmuring out the lines of poetry, imagining that Mollymauk could hear him, even from the shelter of his willow, might follow the sound of his voice, haunting through the storm, and pass through to the other side unscathed.

Around midday, the storm died off to a drizzle, and the wind was not so terrible for the shelter of the forest, but it was too late to move the tent, and Caleb did not want to risk ending up sopping wet for nothing.

He stayed inside the tent, and lay back, looking up at it’s soft grey interior, so much like he imagined the sky to be.

“What do you think, Mollymauk? Where shall you live when you are free?” He asked the empty air. “Will you come with me then, or will you have used me, and abandon me to your fancy? Will I go the same way as Bren? Is it a trick, that I am so in love with you, I am blind?”

But for all he spoke the words, there was no heart in them.

“No, I know you. I know your heart, because you hold your emotions on your beautiful face, plain as day. You love me. You are afraid for me. I do not have to believe it, because I know it. I _know it_. I may be foolish, but I am not a complete idiot for love of you.” Caleb chuckled. “You will see me soon, liebling, though you are being kept from me now.”

Another length of time passed in silence before on the soft and erratic patter of the occasional drop fell onto the roof of the tent and Caleb decided to risk sticking his head out of the zipped door and sniffed the air. The thick must of the forest rose to his nostrils, petrichor and vegetation and _green_ , but all florals were lost among the rest.

For a while, Caleb did little other than sit, before pulling back inside and zipping the tent back up. The journal was sticking out of the top of his bag and he snatched it up, flipping through it to where he left off, curious, and now, finally with time, as to what had been the last thing his younger self had discovered, hoping that something important, something helpful might show up.

 

_30 Juni 2007_

_2:47 am_

_I don’t like Ikithon. Mutti tries to remind me that these are dreams, and that’s all, but I don’t think they are. I think the other me hurt a lot. But he got very powerful. Maybe he was too powerful. Isn’t that how the stories go, and how the bad guys become bad guys? They wanted to fight back against something they didn’t like and the power went to their head and then they became the thing someone else didn’t like? I don’t want that to be me. I’m glad I don’t have magic._

_I still don’t understand why it’s me. Why do I get the dreams?_

_I don’t want them anymore._

 

Caleb sighed heavily and pushed the book away, rubbing at his eyes under his glasses. Maybe Molly had been right. This was the best way things could have gone. He hadn’t been able to handle the terrible things as a child, but as an adult…well, it wasn’t easier, necessarily, but he didn’t dwell on it overmuch, not when there were better lives to lead.

For one brief, wistful moment, Caleb wished he were back at Uni, living with Beau, doing his studies. It faded rapidly, for all Caleb could think was that, if Molly could come with him, he could still have that. He could have _all_ of it. It was a dangerously heady thought, but he didn’t dismiss it. Instead, Caleb closed his eyes and imagined life without Mollymauk, a life where he did not exist.

It wasn’t an empty life, not by any means, nor an unhappy one. But just the thought of seeing Molly, of listening to his terribly obnoxious laugh, of holding his hand, filled his heart and warmed him through. Being with him wasn’t a need, but a choice. And it was one Caleb was ready to make, if only he’d actually be able to.

So he waited, feeling the inevitability of the world surrounding him, stifling him.

With a sigh, he stepped out into the wetness of the surrounding world and looked up and the towering trees, rising high above his powerless self, like their judgement bearing down on him. Caleb shook his head, his thoughts muddled and strange.

“Fick.” He rubbed his eyes again. “You are getting pretty weird, right now,” he said to himself with a little laugh. “Maybe you’re getting a little crazy. It will all be at an end soon, and maybe then you’ll believe yourself, or realize you were insane and Veth was just humouring you and then it will be over. Just another couple days, maybe. Maybe.”

He took a turn around the space, reorienting himself to where he was certain that Molly’s tree should be and then went back inside the tent, zipping open the mesh window so that he could look directly out from it at the spot. Too nervous to read, for fear he might miss his chance, Caleb simply sat and waited.

And waited.

And waited.

Night came and went, with Caleb reciting lines from everything he could recall – even the English lines of several films, in order to keep awake, lest he miss the moment where the veil would thin.

The moment never came.

Tired, but growing frantic, Caleb rose on the morning of the Equinox with the dimly glowing sun in the grey sky, as though all the world had been draped in a cloth and muted around him. He went out of the tent, to find that it was still fairly damp. He found a log, facing in the correct direction, and sat, elbows on knees, face in hands.

A few birds chirped, the grasses rustled. Here or there, something moved in the underbrush, but Caleb’s focus was unwavering. In his head, the seconds ticked by into minutes and the minutes into a half an hour, and then an hour.

Eventually the niggling at the back of his brain turned into a forceful, punishing pounding.

_What if you already missed it?_

Immediately, Caleb pushed the thought aside. It wasn’t even worth consideration. This…this was his last chance, and even though he’d found nothing even _remotely_ helpful, had no idea what he was going to do when that chance finally came, he wasn’t going to let it pass by.

When it started drizzling, he still didn’t move. From within the tent, he could hear his cell phone going off, ever few minutes, but answering it seemed trivial. At the end of the day, regardless of what happened, he would call them back. They could wait that long.

Eventually, his phone stopped ringing.

The sun, were it presently visible in the sky, eventually came to its zenith, and though the day was only half over, Caleb was feeling, even more persistently, that terrible prickling in his chest and a heat rose to his face and eyes, his jaw clenching as he sucked his lips in, pressing them together tightly.

It was to no avail. Eventually, the tears spilled over and he lost himself to shaking sobs as the rain came down harder yet, soaking him to the bone. The chill was incredible and it was impossible for him to distinguish which of his shakes were sobs and which were from the cold. How stupid could he be? How fanciful? Nearly twenty-five years old and sitting in the rain, at an illegal campsite in a national park, waiting for a tear in the veil between realms like a youngster checking wardrobes for Narnia, worrying his parents and friends needlessly in the process.

Caleb’s head hung, tears and rain comingled, running down the line of his nose, dripping from the ends of his hair into his lap. Slowly, his eyes closed.

Behind his eyelids, the world was dark, dreary like it had been for ages. At first, he didn’t even notice the rain let up. At first, he didn’t notice that the only wetness on his face were his tears. At first, he didn’t realize that light was beginning to bleed through the thin divide over his eyes.

And then, Caleb felt the warmth. Like a sunflower, he angled his face into its soothing caress, the balminess of the breeze ruffling at his sopping hair. And then, the scent filtered through, permeating the world around him.

_Jasmin._

Caleb opened his eyes, and there, in the clearing before him, was a veil of light, shimmering a vibrant pear colour, green with all the force of the sun’s yellow burst shining through it. Utterly in awe, Caleb lifted a hand to his forearm and pinched it hard.

The vision did not cease. The conical veil, high saturated compared to the distinct grey to either side of it, rippled and wavered, but remained and Caleb stood, almost without thinking. His first steps were slow, tentative, and then, before he could rationalize anything, he pitched himself forward, headlong towards the veil at a run, his feet pounding through the grass and foliage, breaking little branches as he went. Then, he stopped, just before the veil, abrupt and still and reached out his hand, fingers just pressing the boundary.

The irrational portion of his brain thought happily that it felt like putting on a sweater out of the drier, as he stepped through, the grey world vanishing behind him, without affording it so much as a backwards glance.

Before him was the willow. Majestic as ever, but somehow, larger, more real than ever before, its long, heavy branches rippled with life, a flock of little yellow birds rocketing out from it’s topmost branches, the world silent but for the flapping of their wings and the creaking of the tree as it swayed gently. Caleb ignored the cold air at his back and strode forth, single-minded. The beauty of the place was in no contention, but he had far more pressing concerns.

Caleb parted the branches with his hands, creating a doorway for himself and passed through. As soon as they fell back into place, the cold air vanished and Caleb was surrounded by the intoxicating scent of pure spring.

At first, his gaze caught on that twisted place within the bark of the tree, convoluted into a face, if he looked just hard enough. That place where roots – not really roots, he knew – lifted above the ground, the step he’d used once to climb into the tree more easily. A shiver ran down his spine, and Caleb looked away from the gnarled bark that had once been a human body (Bren’s body) and up, up to the branches.

And there, in that same place where he had caught that first heart stopping glimpse, laying languid amidst the wide branches, was Mollymauk, real and vibrant and alive, and present with Caleb at long last.

And yet, when Molly turned his achingly beautiful face to Caleb, there was a look of such sadness as Caleb had never before seen, that he couldn’t keep confusion from infecting his elation.

“Mollymauk? Molly?” he asked, voice soft and tremulous.

It was almost as though Molly was looking through him. “You’re so wonderful, Caleb,” Molly said. “So wonderful, and I was lucky to have you for as long as I did. I should have guessed. I should have known. Well, this is the last time. I can’t keep torturing myself like this. You’re gone, now. You’re not coming back. It’s been _days_.”

“But Molly,” Caleb touched his hands to his chest, “I’m real. I’m _here_.”

“You’re a conjuration and nothing more. You’re saying that because I want you to be, and that’s all.” His tail hung limp against the bark of the tree, not twitching in the slightest. “Bitte, mein Schatz, it is me, wirklich!”

A soft, sad smile crept over Molly’s features. “I wish you were. I love you so dearly.” He shook his head. “Goodbye, beloved.”

As his eyes fell shut, Caleb firmed himself and went up to the tree, grabbing for the lowest branch and pulling himself up with practiced ease, clambering onto the one nearest Molly and reached out his hand, pressing his palm flat to Molly’s feathered cheek. “Open your eyes, my love, and you will see that I’m no conjuration of your mind.”

Molly’s eyelashes fluttered and his eyes opened, wide and shining. “Caleb?”

“Hallo, Molly.”

“Caleb!”

Precarious though their positions seemed, Molly wasn’t hindered, surging upwards to pull Caleb into his arms, trusting the tree completely, though Caleb flailed a little at being pulled down to Molly, who wrapped arms and tail around him securely as he pressed innumerable kisses into Caleb’s hair.

“Schatz, lass mich, ah, let me, come down to you, ja?”

“You won’t fall!” Molly reassured him. “You can’t here. Even though it's…not a dream…I’ll keep you safe. These plants obey my will. You’ll never come to harm here.”

Molly’s hands were strong on his shoulder and wrist as he helped Caleb down onto the branch with him, resituating himself in the process until they were together on the same branch, Molly laid out similarly to before, and Caleb pulled into the crook of his arm, atop him.

 

 

 

The physical sensations were overwhelming. Though the dreams had felt real enough, the touch of Molly’s skin to his was electric in a way that nothing had ever before been. His breath was hot against Caleb’s cheek and his hair finer silk than any Caleb had touched prior, and the tickle of the spade of his tail against Caleb’s calf sent shivers cascading down his spine.

“You’re sopping wet, Caleb, beloved.” Molly said, petting his hand through the tangle of Caleb’s hair. “What have you been up to?”

“Waiting. Waiting for the veil to thin.”

“And it did?” There was still a tremor of nervous disbelief in Molly’s tone.

“Ja. It did. And I am here, with you.”

Molly’s arms tightened around him for a flash of a second, pressing warmth and loving energy into Caleb. “With me. Really here. Oh, gods, _Caleb_ , oh beloved.”

Caleb never wanted to move again. Held secure and close in Molly’s embrace, he felt _so much_ , that he was sure it would begin to seep out of him, this overflowing, overwhelming brace of emotions that he could neither all name, nor count, nor felt the need to attempt either.

“Were you waiting in the rain then, my Caleb?”

“Ja.”

Caleb could feel Molly shaking his head, hear the scrape of his horns against the bark. “Foolish beloved. Now I’ve to warm you up. Would you like that?”

“Ja.”

Molly’s tail traveled higher, up to his thigh, and Caleb shivered, but not from cold.

“Mollymauk…”

“Hush, Caleb.”

And with that, a wind pushed through the curtain of willow branches, warm and buffeting over Caleb; his skin prickled as it dried, and his hair, though still damp, was no longer sopping.

“Here.” Molly motioned him upwards. “You’ll feel better out of this,” he said, helping Caleb off with his henley, which made an undesirable _thwack_ when it hit the ground beneath them. Molly’s hands pressed to his chest, one over his heart directly, and then moved down, grasping him about the waist and pulling him back in to Molly, until they were pressed together once more, resting against the branch. The most gentle press of lips found Caleb’s hairline and he sighed, his own hand curling for purchase over Molly’s shoulder.

Caleb shifted, glancing up and ghosted a kiss to Molly’s jaw. “Do you believe, yet, that I am here?”

“Yes. I believe you. I’ve missed you.”

“And I have missed you. I did not know if I would…If I would ever find a way to you, but I have. I have and I think that I know, now, how to free you completely.” Caleb made to sit up, but Molly tugged him back in.

“Later, Caleb, we have some time, right?”

“Ja,” Caleb replied, breathless as he gazed into Molly’s gem red eyes, watched his fine lips twitch with mischief and humour. Desire curled in Caleb’s gut. “We have time.”

“Then,” Molly rubbed his thumb over Caleb’s shoulder, while his other hand trailed low over Caleb’s tender stomach. “Let me show you how much I’ve missed you?”

“ _Bitte_.”

The word came out needier than Caleb had hoped, but his composure was almost lost. Three days spent seriously concerned that he was going insane. Three days spent worrying that he’d never see Molly again. Three days lonely and cold and desperate, and now, wrapped in Molly’s arms, the light puffs of his breath slipping over his cheek, while his hands tempted and teased, Caleb was absolutely a goner.

“ _Bitte, Molly._ ”

“Hush, Caleb. I’ve got you.”

Molly’s hand snaked down, tickling at the waistband of Caleb’s shorts before popping the button there and sliding down, the zipper pushing open as his hand slipped beneath Caleb’s boxers, grasping him firmly. He bucked a little, held down only by Molly’s secure embrace.

“I love you, you know?” Molly muttered in a low tone as he began to move his hand over Caleb, steadily. “You’re so vibrantly alive, and you’re passionate about everything! About the world, about your books – Caleb, you make me feel more alive than I have in all the years I’ve been alive, and it’s many. Through you, the world doesn’t seem so far away. I’d gladly stay here, all the rest of my days, with only your stories to bring the world into being around me. You care so much, and with all of yourself, and you are unashamed to do it.”

Caleb made a noise, flushing red all over, he was sure, at the praise combined with the touch, felt his muscles jerking of their own volition as Molly pulled him apart with unhurried ease. Breathing hard, he shut his eyes.

“Look at you, my beloved. Look how beautiful you are for me,” Molly continued. “ Look how you blossom for me! You’re the colour of roses. Shall I make roses bloom for you, in my glade?” His breath caught as Molly ran a thumb over the head of his cock, smearing the trickle of pre-spend there over the rest of him before continuing with his torturous pace. “They’d pale in comparison. Maybe a whole host of Penstemon? Or Astilbe? Or Celosia? A fox’s tail to match your clever mind and your fiery hair?”

The pressure increased a hairbreadth and Caleb’s breath caught in his throat, his hips shuddering as Molly worked him over.

“Please Caleb,” and then it was Molly who seemed to be begging. “Let me hear you. Give me all your sighs, give me every breath. Remind me that you’re here with me.”

“M-Molly, oh Gott, Mo-lly, _fick_.”

“That’s it, Caleb, beloved, that’s it.” Molly’s palm over him was velvet soft and impossibly warm, and the pressure was unbearably perfect. “You’re so good, Caleb, so beautiful, so smart,” Molly was muttering again. “So wonderful-“ Caleb gasped. “-look how good you are for me, how breathless, how flushed, so good to hold you, to have you, oh, Caleb, you found me, you’re going to free me, and you did it all without a spark of magic. All by yourself, my beloved. So smart, so wonderful, so good for me, my love, so _good-_ “

Caleb shuddered and came into Molly’s hand, Molly who didn’t stop until Caleb was reduced to such bonelessness that twitching was an effort, who talked him through it the whole while, though the meaning behind the words was lost on Caleb completely.

When he came back to his senses, a hand lay heavy over his stomach. “Molly?”

“I’m still here.” The hand pressed down, a focal point for Caleb’s floating consciousness. “I’ve got you, beloved. You’re safe. I’m here.”

Though Caleb trusted Molly’s lilting voice, even more reassured by the firm weight of his slender hand, he still felt unmoored, laying as open and unsurrounded as he was, atop Molly and turned his head, pressing back to Molly, trying to nuzzle his head beneath Molly’s chin.

Molly’s resulting chuckle sent reverberations through Caleb, who shivered and flailed blindly in an attempt to grasp something – anything – for purchase.

“Easy, Caleb,” Molly said, putting out his other arm for Caleb to hold. “Trust me. I won’t let you fall.”

“But you are not holding onto anything,” Caleb muttered, breathless.

There was silence, and briefly, Caleb imagined it was filled with a tender smile. “I’m holding onto you,” Molly replied, tightening his grip just a little. “And while I’ve got you, you’ll never have to worry.”

“I believe you.”

“Good, that’s good. I’m glad.” The warmth in Molly’s voice was almost tangible. “Just relax for a bit, beloved, and then I think you’ll be ready to climb down, good?”

“Ja, that’d good. Danke.” Leaning further into Molly’s touch, Caleb shifted unintentionally, and a hiss escaped Molly’s lips. “Are you alright, Schatz?” he asked, mildly concerned.

That time, Molly’s laugh was full bodied and, even before any words made it from Molly’s lips, Caleb understood.

“Oh.” Caleb felt himself heat again. Despite the fact that they’d already been so much closer in their dream encounters, there was something very personal about being together in person, about the electricity of their intimate touch, and Caleb’s mind ran wild with possibility.

“Yes, well,” Molly started, coughing back his amusement. “I’ll still be very much ready when you’re good to climb down, so I’m _more_ than alright with our current situation. In fact, you’re giving me quite the ego boost, that I made you entirely forget everything around you, just by touching you for a bit.”

Caleb scoffed. “’Just by touching’ me, he says. Basta! That was more than a bit and a very _particular_ sort of touch, Molly.”

“Careful, dear, you’re only make my ego worse.”

“Hmm.” Caleb slid his hand into Molly’s grip and squeezed, not letting go. “If I do wonders for your ego, will you touch me like that more?”

“Oh, darling beloved. My Caleb, I’ll touch you however you want. Whatever you desire, it’s yours.”

“I desire you, above all else.” He wished he could see Molly, more than anything, he wished that, but it wasn’t to be, and so Caleb waited, with bated breath, though the answer was already more than obvious, for a response.

“My heart will never have another, Caleb, and that’s a promise.” For a while, there was little other than a comfortable silence, and then Molly, who was still gingerly stroking Caleb’s soft stomach, pressed another kiss to the top of his head. “Do you feel you can keep your feet under you now?”

“Ja.”

“Alright then, let’s get you down from this tree.”

His hands found Caleb’s waist, talons tapping lightly at the tender flesh at his sides and he sat them up. “Reach for the branch. I’ll hold you steady if you need it.”

Cautiously, Caleb managed to temper his shaking muscles and the overstimulating friction of his shorts over his groin to make his way to the forest floor, followed by Molly, who, upon dropping to the ground, shed his gossamer robe. Caleb, too, shucked the rest of his clothing and reached out for his lover, tangling their fingers together and drawing him nearer, so Caleb could tease his fingertips over Molly’s hard cock.

Muscles spasming, Molly tightened his grip and gasped, whirling Caleb around so that his back was to the tree. His lips parted, revealing those shining sharp teeth as a hissing growl forced its way from Molly’s throat, and a thrill traveled Caleb’s spine.

Molly lifted his free hand and made a floating gesture that held Caleb’s attention for a moment, confusing him, before, quite suddenly, Molly pushed him up against the…surprisingly smooth tree trunk.

“Don’t want to hurt you, Caleb,” Molly said, his voice low, head hung over Caleb’s shoulder, mouthing rapid, half kisses at his collarbone. “Can we – here? I want-“

“Ja, oh, _fuck_ , ja, bitte, Molly, bitte.”

The addition of Molly’s magic to their escapade was intoxicating in a way Caleb hadn’t anticipated; that Molly was using it to make him comfortable…

Still wrung out, and a little wobbly, especially at Molly’s renewed advances, Caleb let himself go slack against the enormous tree, let Molly’s barely there restraint holding him in place, even as dexterous fingers skimmed their way over his stomach, his tender cock, his jutting hip bone, to press at more intimate places.

“Sch-scheiße. I don’t have – _hnn_ – have any – _ah, Molly!_ – any –“

Molly hadn’t stopped his perusal of Caleb’s clavicle, lips and tongue and teeth, but he paused, just long enough to mutter something, before leaning up to tug on Caleb’s ear with his teeth. “I’ve got that covered,” he whispered, low, into Caleb’s ear, hot breath sending Caleb into a boneless shiver as suddenly cool, wet fingers, talons blunted, pressed against him once more.

Even if he’d wanted to ask, he wouldn’t have been able to, for the simultaneous skim of Molly’s nails over his abdomen hit at the same time as the rest of the sensations and the power of speech was wrested from him. Panting with the effort he was exerting just to stay upright, Caleb gave it up gladly.

The teasing fingers pulled away a moment as Molly resituated them, throwing Caleb’s arms around his neck loosely, and pressing one hand up against the tree for leverage, while the other lifted Caleb’s leg by the thigh, hooking it over Molly’s waist, his tail wrapping around Caleb’s leg. Finally, Molly returned to the business at hand, massaging the circle of muscle with a surprising amount of patience before one finger finally pressed in, and then another, scissoring him open a little before trying for a third, stroking rhythmically, fingers curling at intervals. The angle wasn’t fantastic, Molly only able to just graze his prostate, but Caleb was already blissed out, brain still flooded with endorphins, and he let Molly move him as he wanted, lax and willing. Caleb gave a whining keen when Molly pulled his fingers away, leaving him open and wanting, but gave no other resistance.

“Shh-shh.” Even Molly was stuttering. “Just…” He paused, gripping Caleb’s cock, back to half hardness, stroking it a few times before slicking his own. With a fluid motion, he bucked, hitching Caleb’s leg up him further before angling his own hips better, guiding his cock toward Caleb’s entrance. “Just a – a moment, beloved.”

Caleb let his head fall back against the tree as he felt the initial blunt press and let himself fall, relaxing into it as Molly thrust up into him. In the same instant, he shot is hand up, pressing into the tree to hold them steady and Caleb flexed his grip into Molly’s shoulder blades and tried to breath as Molly held himself still, surrounding Caleb completely, their chests pressed together, his head bowed and his hair falling lightly on Caleb’s shoulder, the curl of his horn just grazing Caleb’s jaw.

“It’s better than the dream,” Caleb gasped out as he let his body adjust, lifting his other leg to catch around Molly’s hip, jostling himself a little further down. The movement sent a punch of pleasure through him and he shuddered, clutching Molly close. “Oh, bitte, Molly, bitte.”

“Cay-“

“ _Move._ ”

Needing no further encouragement, Molly’s hips stuttered. Caleb felt the smoothness of the wood against his back as the force of Molly’s thrust drove him up the trunk, but no sliver of pain accompanied it. His world narrowed down instead to the singular pleasure point that was Molly moving within him, filling him, holding him, panting his name.

It was slow at first, and Caleb allowed himself to relish each movement, no matter how minute, enjoying every point of friction. His cock, trapped between their stomachs, was hard once more, stroked by the movement of each thrust. And then, Molly dropped his hands, hooking them under Caleb’s thighs to hoist him up, granting Molly better access as he thrust harder than before, and Caleb’s vision whited for a second, Molly pressing against that place so very deep within him, again and again.

“Oh Caleb, oh Caleb, Caleb you’re here, you’re in my arms, _Caleb_ , finally, I’m holding you and you’re _real_ and I’m with you and you’re with me, oh, _Caleb_ ,” Molly began to babble, breathless. “So beautiful, so real, I’ve missed you, _so m-m-_ “ Molly gasped, almost sobbing, hips canting upwards erratically.

“H-hush, Schatz, my Molly, I’m with you.” Back still rubbing against the bark, Caleb tangled his hand into the hair at the back of Molly’s head, blossoms falling to the ground around them as he pulled Molly in closer, his forehead now pressed to Caleb’s shoulder. The heated puffs of breath he let loose tickled on his skin. “Take me. Take all of me. For I am – a-all for you.”

Only a few more sharp thrusts later, Caleb spilled onto their stomachs, his grip on Molly faltering. He felt the searing warmth as Molly came deep inside him not but moments later. Almost instantly, Caleb’s legs lost their support and his feet hit the ground as he heard Molly’s hands slap hard onto the wood as he panted heavily.

“Oh fuck,” he smiled through it, petting Molly’s head. “Oh fuck, Molly. Scheiße.” He chuckled a bit, feeling his muscles flex still around Molly’s softening cock within him. “Gott. That was incredible.”

In lieu of a response, Molly only sighed happily, nuzzling into Caleb’s neck.

“Are you going to sleep standing?”

“No,” Molly mumbled.

“Are you sure?” Caleb asked, fingers threading through Molly’s curls.

“Mhmm. Just another minute.”

“Molly…”

Caleb felt a kiss find his throat and then Molly slipped from within him, leaving Caleb feeling empty, though more than sated. As Molly pulled away from him, he took Caleb’s hands pulling him along as Molly, tail swishing, tried to flop himself down gently on the ground, drawing Caleb with him. The soft moss beneath them was cushion enough and Caleb curled back into Molly’s side, relishing in the lingering elation and pure joy that was genuinely, for the first time, laying next to Mollymauk.

“I can’t believe I’m here,” he said, sense returning to him, voice wavering a bit in awe, as well as the persistent effects of his orgasm. “I can’t believe that I am with you. I never, Molly, I do not want to leave your side, and…” he swallowed, shifting. “I do know how to free you, I think, but…”

“Caleb, we don’t have to talk about it, just now,” Molly said, turning towards him, squeezing their clasped hands. “We can lay here, and kiss. Whatever you want, beloved. It doesn’t have to be now.”

Molly’s gaze softened, perceptibly and Caleb felt the effused warmth of his aura. “But I want to.” He pressed a hand to Molly’s feathered cheek, rubbing his thumb back and forth there. “This is important to both of us. I…”

“What?” Molly pulled Caleb’s hand from his cheek to press a kiss to his knuckles. “What is it?”

“I am not sure you will be pleased. You have been trapped here for a long time, and I am sure that you want… you want to be free to roam your world, but my idea…” Caleb shook his head. “It is not what I think you were hoping for.”

Biting his lip, Molly shook his head a bit. “I don’t have a preference, Caleb. Free is free. Here in the Feywild, out on the material plane of Exandria…it doesn’t matter.” He laughed. “Even your world, Caleb! I may not like your…cars…but its still far more of a life than this.”

At those words, Caleb relaxed. “Ja, that’s…that’s what I am thinking. If I take you back through the way I came, you will be free to roam as you will there, but I do not know a way of freeing you in your realm. That requires magic, which I do not think I shall ever have.”

The smile that Molly gave in return was small but genuine. “It’s more than enough, Caleb. You didn’t have to do any of this, but you did. We found one another, we love one another, and now, against all odds, we’re here together! What did it end up being? What was the key?” he asked, suddenly a little more eager. “I was wondering, and then, well…” Molly actually flushed, causing Caleb to snicker.

“’Well’ is right, Molly.” Caleb even managed to raise a jaunty brow to match the sordid look on his face. “It’s…well, I had a dream, the first night I was not with you. About…about Bren.” At that, the memory, terrible as it was, rushed back and Caleb glanced towards the tree trunk, suddenly stricken. “I saw…what you warned me against.”

Molly followed his gaze, swallowing, and suddenly the carefree ambiance was lost. “I’m sorry. That must have been terrible to witness. I didn’t want – to watch _yourself_ , essentially just – “Molly cut himself off again, shuddering. “It was horrific. I can’t forget it. I don’t imagine you can either.”

“Nein. I cannot,” Caleb replied, and Molly pulled him in to a tighter embrace, as if to reassure him that he wouldn’t be going anywhere. “But, I caught a glimpse of his maps and I figured out that his forest and my own are the same. And I found the place where I imagined your glade would be and,” he shrugged. “I went there. I thought I had until the Vernal equinox, and I didn’t want to miss you, in case, so I camped. You weren’t in my dreams, so I thought the worst. That I had missed you. That I was too late.” He willed away the burning at the corners of his eyes. He was _there_ and Molly was _there_ , and they were there _together_ and it was enough. “So I waited and today - the Vernal equinox - I just…saw it. And I knew it would lead me to you.” Caleb shrugged. “And so, here I am.”

“Here you are.” Molly sat up, brushing the mussed hair out of Caleb’s eyes. “Take me back with you then?”

“Now?”

“It’s as good a time as any, isn’t it?”

Caleb couldn’t help but smile.

“Ja. I am sure I must get us back before the end of the Equinox, for that is when I think the veil will disappear again.”

Pushing himself up off the ground, Molly brushed himself off and then extended a hand. “Well, come on then. I can’t wait to roam your world with you!”

They dressed (or, in Molly’s case, ‘dressed’, as far as pulling on his samite garment could be considered wearing clothes) and walked hand in hand towards the tree’s mighty curtain, Caleb and Molly both brushing their fingertips against its bark one last time as they passed the trunk. Beyond, the glade looked the same as ever, and, for a scant moment, Caleb felt regret that they would leave a place of so many memories behind forever. But there would be new memories to make, ones that they would make in person, in a reality that he could share with Molly, and finally express all his love publicly. It put a spring in Caleb’s step, and he swung their joined hands a little along the walk.

But the longer they walked, the more confused Caleb grew.

“Molly, did we leave in the right direction?”

“Yes. Why?” he asked, brow furrowed.

Caleb stopped and looked around. The space was familiar, but nowhere did he see the desaturated, raining doorway rent in the space between universes. All was lush and vibrantly green.

“Caleb?” Molly pressed. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

He could only turn and look at Molly, distraught.

The veil had vanished, and deep down, Caleb knew that they were trapped.  

  
  
END PART 1  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :D Feel free to comment on where you think part 2 will take our lovers!


	9. INTERLUDE

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> INTERLUDE

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to my lovely beta, senor_sparklefingers. You're the light of my life. 
> 
> A word on art. The incredible pandamenope has real-life-itis and needs a break, but has informed me that she fully intends to still make art of the rest of the chapters of this story. As they are created, they will become available, and I will leave a note at the beginning of a chapter indicating if there is new art for you, my lovely readers, to go and view and in which chapters.  
> Panda, you're the best.
> 
> I am a chapter and a half away from having this story completely written. Updates from here on out will be Weekly on Fridays, but since this is just the interlude, I will be posting Chapter 8 today as well! Enjoy!

INTERLUDE.

“Everyone must dream. We dream to give ourselves hope. To stop dreaming - well, that's like saying you can never change your fate. Isn't that true?”

~ Amy Tan,  _ The Hundred Secret Senses _

“Sometimes since I've been in the garden I've looked up through the trees at the sky and I have had a strange feeling of being happy as if something was pushing and drawing in my chest and making me breathe fast. Magic is always pushing and drawing and making things out of nothing. Everything is made out of magic, leaves and trees, flowers and birds, badgers and foxes and squirrels and people. So it must be all around us. In this garden - in all the places.”

~ Frances Hodgson Burnett, _ The Secret Garden _

The birds chorused loudly very early that morning, their song more than waking Caleb from his sleep. For a while he lay, cushioned by the grasses, and simply enjoyed their music, allowing it to be carried on the gentle breeze towards him, bringing with it the scent of a thousand varieties of flowers, intermingled but easily distinguishable. The easy smile that spread across his face was one he’d found present more and more, the nearer he came to his home.

_ Home _ .

Though, comparative to most things, a year wasn’t such a long time, it was long enough that Caleb found himself providing that moniker to Mollymauk’s hidden glade. Of course, though the glade was homey enough, that which made it such was not the place, but rather, the person.

Mollymauk.

Breathing deeply, Caleb shut his eyes in the cool dawn and imagined that the winds in his hair was Molly’s gentle hand, brushing it aside before readying to kiss him awake.

He hadn’t been gone too terribly long, but it was more than enough to make such daydreams desirable to be certain.

But the real thing was  _ infinitely _ better than any dream, as well Caleb knew. Leaving was always difficult, but coming home had him more impatient than ever, especially as they neared that much anticipated date.

The Vernal Equinox wasn’t distinguishable in the Feywild, where they resided, but it might be on the material plane, considering the second hand memories of which Caleb found himself in possession. Unfortunately, there was little under Caleb’s power that he could use to force any such transition by himself, and no way of telling when it should occur regardless. It had taken weeks (and they could only tell it was weeks because, at first, for how regularly and often Caleb felt the need to sleep, as time ran strange in the Feywild) to convince Caleb to go out beyond the glade seeking aide of some sort.

What he’d found was nothing short of astonishing. While Molly held some degree of control over the flora that resided within the confines of his glade, the rest of the world was in no such way. The trees moved, the grasses had feelings and a wide variety of creatures Caleb had considered mythical – even after meeting Mollymauk – lived within the vast, untouched expanses of the beautiful yet treacherous land. Languishing without so much as a notebook to write in, Caleb set about his best memorization, keeping everything preserved as best as he could: the sights, the scents, the creatures.

Before leaving, Molly had braided flowers into his hair, pressed a kiss to his forehead and then, for good measure, one to his lips, long and lingering.

_ “That’s for protection _ ,” Molly had said, holding both of Caleb’s hands as they stood close.  _ “You’ll need it out there. Nothing will touch you with my kisses on you. I promise.” _

Caleb recalled his confusion and frustration.  _ “How can you know?” _ he’d asked, pulling Molly into a tight hug.  _ “How can you know?” _

_ “Because they’ll see that you’re mine.” _

_ “And I needed an extra kiss for that?” _

Very seriously, Molly had answered.  _ “Yes.” _ And promptly kissed him again.

Without any further questioning, Caleb pulled Molly into his embrace and they’d stayed like that for a long while before, with a sad smile and a little prod, Molly sent Caleb into the unknown lands. True to his word, nothing touched Caleb. Not the pixies, nor the werewolves, or the vicious grasses, or anything else he ran into, including other nymphs and dryads.

He recalled one dryad in particular, androgynous of face, lithe in body, skin a pale, pale green, who had reached out to him, only to draw back, hissing, eyes frantic with pain. The language it spoke was incomprehensible to Caleb, who only stuttered in confusion. The dryad followed him for some way, looking on longingly, though never again reaching out to touch him. Whatever enchantment was in Molly’s blossoms and kisses, it held completely.

And then, innumerable days later, Caleb met a creature that set his spine tingling with the power that crackled under its skin.

An Archfey, he came to learn, named Artagan. The robes he wore were a verdant green, the shoulders structured into dual points while the rest billowed out behind him, and the front cut in a deep vee, exposing his torso. A wild mane of red hair streamed down his back, nearly to his calves, and long thin eyebrows, whisker-like appendages that split at the midpoint and ended in oval tips, swept across his brow towards long, pointed ears. His smile, above all else, gave Caleb pause.

_ “Pretty little human,” _ he’d said, looking Caleb over, like he were an appetizer or a work of art, though which, Caleb wasn’t initially sure. “ _ you’re  _ awfully _ lost, aren’t you?”  _ The being had begun to circle Caleb then, leaving him feeling more uncomfortably like prey than he had his entire life. And he  _ lived _ with Molly.  _ “Wherever did you spring from, then?” _

Caleb recalled how carefully he’d weighted his words, how he’d circled with the being, ever cautious.

_ “I’ve come from another plane, but I am living here in the Feywilds.” _

And then, the being reached out to touch him, just a single, slender nut brown finger, but pulled back almost immediately, as though he’d been stung.

_ “Someone likes you a great deal.” _ He’d groused, the smile that stretched across his face oily and suspicious.  _ “I can see why. Whatever are you doing all the way out here, and ever so  _ alone _?” _

Nervous, Caleb had held his head high; even though he was tall enough himself, the Archfey had been taller than him by half a head, his whole body elongated and willowy in an almost alien fashion, and when he leaned in to get a better look at Caleb, his eyes, the sclera black, the irises the yellowish green of new leaves, flashed a fiery orange to match his wild hair.

_ “I wish to find a way to overlap my…lover’s glade with my home realm, so that we might return, instead of waiting for the Vernal equinox to occur.” _

The compulsion to speak more had been strong, but never before had Caleb been more thankful for Mollymauk’s parting gifts; they were all that kept him from Artagan’s clutches initially.

_ “Well then. I am Artagan, an Archfey belonging to no court in particular. I could perhaps assist you in that, or something to similar effect, though I should require something of you in return. A deal, perhaps?” _

Caleb smiled, thinking back on the conversation, on how he’d returned the request with a simpering smile and a cautious eye, watching those long, spindle-fingers carefully.

_ “I do not have much to offer you, by way of abilities. I have no magic to my name, and no possessions other than the clothes I wear, so I do not know what you could possibly ask of me in turn. Nor can I be assured that you are capable of assisting me in anything. What exactly would you do for me?” _

And then the game had really begun, wordplay firing up Caleb’s brain for the first time since arriving in the Feywild until an agreement was reached, and the smile on Artagan’s lips was less pleased and more thinly veiled tolerance, though there was a spark in his strange eyes that worried Caleb more than a little.

In the end, the deal had gone like so: Caleb took a very fine bronze dagger from Artagan and severed a lock of his own fox-red hair, laying it willingly in Artagan’s hand, along with the dagger, and vowed to write him into a novel which he would see published someday back in his own realm, while Artagan, who claimed himself unable to simply send Caleb and Molly where they willed, in turn, undulated his fingers to Caleb’s temple where he pressed them gently, Molly’s magic temporarily suspended at Caleb’s consent, so Artagan’s could seep beneath his skin.

_ “I wish to know, for the duration of my time in a plane not my own, feywild or otherwise, whenever a day in my own world has passed, so that I may mark the passage of time there as it correlates to the lack of time’s passage here, or a difference of time passed on other realms.” _

Instantly, he’d known that it was already the 19 th of Mai. A month and a half, he’d been gone.

A month and a half of his family, wondering what had happened to him.  

But that hadn’t been the extent of it. As Artagan folded away Caleb’s lock of hair into a beautiful silken cloth, which he then dissipated into some pocket dimension, he spoke.  _ “There are many planewalkers that come to and fro between realms, and I shall direct you to one such person, and they will assist you in any other such way you may need.” _

It wasn’t the best of bargains by any means. There was nothing, Caleb knew, that held the planewalker that he would be directed towards, in aiding him, for the deal was with Artagan alone. But, in dire straits, there was little else Caleb felt he could do to match such requests.

Artagan pointed him, then, in the appropriate direction before bowing deeply, his eerie eyes never leaving Caleb’s, and he knew then that he’d managed, somehow, to be extremely lucky.

_ “Tell your lover that I left you in tact and untouched. I don’t need some ruffled Nymphling cursing me unduly.” _

_ “I shall him so, you needn’t worry. Thank you, Artagan.” _

_ “You’re welcome…” _

_ “Bren.” _

_ “Bren.” _

Caleb had read more than enough to know that giving a fae your name was a bad move, and though he couldn’t be certain that actually applied here, it had been better by far to trust his gut. So trust it he had, and then, with a sly smile, a little wave, and a  _ pop _ , Artagan vanished into thin air, leaving Caleb on his own.

The sun was in much the same place as it had been for the past several days by the time Caleb came to the end of his recollection, and he decided that, even if the sun wasn’t ready, it really was time to get up. He had nothing to pack, nothing in his pockets, and only his sense of direction to lead him back to Molly, but he felt that call in his soul, a pull almost. The scent of jasmin, the songs of the birds, the push of the gentling wind…all of it was Molly, and all of it was home.

After he’d left Artagan, he’d been alone for precisely one Earth week before he happened upon the planewalker of whom the Archfey had spoken. Or rather,  _ she _ happened upon  _ him _ .

It wasn’t exactly as if Caleb had much experience being sneaky in the woods. He’d mostly walked about thoughtless to the dangers around him, as Molly’s kisses had seemed to do the trick against all manner of creatures, so he’d mostly made his way without concern, sleeping out in the open, under the everlasting dawn.

So, when the arrow whizzed past him, narrowly missing his ear, Caleb dropped to the ground in surprise and shock, looking up only as a pair of well worn boots entered his field of vision. The person crouched down as Caleb made to get up, and he was met with the spry face of an elvish looking woman, mouth quirked into a grin.

_ “Apologies there, laddie,” _ she’d said, moderately confusing Caleb with her thick, apparently Scottish brogue.  _ “Mistook ye fer a fox in the branches.”  _ She’d put out her hand, helping him up off the ground.

_ “Are you a planar traveler?” _ he asked, catching the impish looking woman off guard. She had a nice face, despite the mischief he saw in her dimples, the both of which had rather reminded him of Mollymauk in a pleasant and also aching sort of way.  _ “I was told to head in this direction in order to find one.” _

She took a step back as he brushed himself off, looking him over in a much different aspect than Artagan had done.  _ “Now, it’s nae every day tha’ I’m told I’m bein’ looked fer. ‘specially nae in ta Feywild. How’d ye know I’d be ‘ere. An’ where ye from then? Ye don’ look the part o’a traveler, much.” _

Caleb took his own moment to glance the woman over, eyes lingering curiously and excitedly on her ears, then nervously on her beautiful, imposing bow. Chestnut curls bounce around her shoulders.  _ “I am from another plane and I am looking to return, and if you are the planar traveler I am looking for, then I am still heading in the right direction.” _ He swallowed her nerves.  _ “I apologize, but I have never seen an elf before. Are you an elf? Where I am from, they are only fantasy and live within books.” _

A bemused expression flittered over her features.  _ “Only t’ half. But yeah, I can traverse realms. You be needin’ portal then, s’tha it?” _

Her words had given him pause. Something about his transition to the Feywild had him a little more than concerned that it would not be so simple as that.  _ “Not precisely, per say. I am Caleb, and my story is long and strange, and convoluted, and I only wish to take myself and my lover back to my home.” _

At that, she’d grinned wide.  _ “Myara. Right pleased ta meetcha. I like a good, long, interestin’ story, so let’s head back ta me camp and ye can tell me yer tale an’ I’ll see wha’ I can, er cannae do fer ye.” _

Rarely had Caleb missed much, other than people, through his stay in the Feywild. It was always the best, most comfortable temperature. Molly made sure he was kept dry (when he wanted to be) and safe, always. But, there were some things that could not be replicated, like the scent of a real campfire, for instance.

As Caleb told Myara his story – truncated in parts – Caleb kept a little part of his focus listening for the tick in  his head that would signify the passing of one earth day. He could recall how strange it had been, initially, to hear that sound, but now, as he checked the moss on the trees to be sure he was heading in the right direction, and heard the tick, it was normal. Reassuring. A reminder that the day was coming when he would finally,  _ finally _ free Molly. Little had felt worse than realizing that he could still go places, that though he was stuck in the Feywild, he  _ wasn’t _ stuck in Molly’s glade the way that Molly was still. That he’d failed entirely.

(Even worse was when he processed the realization of  _ why _ they got stuck, which left him invariably with cheeks aflame in embarrassment. He recalled Molly laughing at him, shamelessly, the uproarious, joyous sound absolutely lending him to mortification).

_ “Well,”  _ Myara said when he’d finished the tale.  _ “I’ve ne’re heard o’ a place quite like what yer describin’, laddie, but I’d be right glad ta help ye iffin I can. Seems ta me like ye need to know first iffin there’s actually a portal in tha glade?” _

_ “Ja. That would be helpful. Danke.” _

She’d made a face then, and looked at him bemusedly.  _ “Fer someone who’s lost in a foreign realm and says tha’ the material plane ain’t be yer home, ye speak Zemnian damn well.” _

_ “You sound extremely Scottish, for someone who has never heard of my home,”  _ he’d countered then, and been met with utter confusion, much as expected.

That had been half a week or so ago, give or take. They’d continued on together until Myara realized, most suddenly, that she was incapable of going any further, impeded by some invisible barrier, likely of Molly’s contrivance, that seemed only to let Caleb in or out.

They agreed that it wasn’t much use. Myara would explore the range of the forcefield’s border, in an attempt to discover the portal, and when Caleb found Molly, he’d ask him to locate Myara and they’d reconvene and share out their information.

And so, Caleb had continued on alone.

That morning’s everlasting dawn was just as beautiful as it had been when he’d fallen asleep the ‘night’ before. Training himself into the habit of sleep had been difficult at first, without Molly’s control over the trees to aide him. He’d had to face the fact, after he left the grove, that Molly had been spoiling him rotten. Shamelessly.

It had been a gift to realize that truth, and it had kept him warm on chill nights, where he longed for the comfort of Molly curled up behind him, an arm slung over his waist, clutching at him possessively, nose nestled at the pulse behind his ear. (Molly liked to be the big spoon. Something to do with the horns, Caleb imagined, though Molly had never actively complained). The phantom of Molly’s lingering touch drove him to melancholy most nights, but he knew that it was likely worse for him than for Molly, who had a lot of practice in waiting. It was one thing, Caleb knew, to learn to live without something. It was quite another to be suddenly deprived of a thing to which one had only just grown content. At each turn, he’d thought to himself that he couldn’t miss Molly more. And yet, not but a short trek away – maybe half a day, yet – Caleb would finally find himself in Molly’s glade once more.

That didn’t stop his heart from aching for to see Mollymauk’s wonderful face.

When the glade finally became familiar, he sped up his gait, fairly rushing through the trees to where he knew the willow would be, and there, waiting beyond the curtain of greenery, was Mollymauk. They raced towards one another, impacting almost hard into a tight embrace. No words, no kisses, only holding one another tightly for several, indeterminately long moments. Their plans, the news, everything Caleb had learned could wait. They had time. Plenty enough of it to figure out what they were going to do next. The only thing that mattered in that moment was that they were together again. It was dramatic and silly, but Caleb knew it was true. (Beau would rib him over it later, when he told the story, he was sure. And Veth would think it sweet. When, not if).

“You’re safe!” Molly’s voice sounded wrecked in his ear, muffled by hair. “You’re safe, oh, gods, you’re safe.”

“And I am home.”

“Home?” Molly pulled back, a confused expression on his face. “Caleb, what do you mean? We’re still in – “

“ – your glade. Ja. And you are here with me. And, so, I am home.”

The look Molly gave him wasn’t one that could be described in words; it changed, fragmentally and rapidly, such a breadth of emotion flowing over him that it was too complex to categorize, but he took Caleb’s hands in his own and brought them to his lips, kissing them tenderly.

“Welcome home, Caleb,” he managed, voice thick with emotion. “Welcome home.”

__

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Congrats to @Meridas on winning my little competition, I've had fun playing with Myara, and I hope you like it!


	10. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As promised, Chapter 8, to accompany the interlude!

PART 2

“I have learned that if you must leave a place that you have lived in and loved and where all your yesteryears are buried deep, leave it any way except a slow way, leave it the fastest way you can. Never turn back and never believe that an hour you remember is a better hour because it is dead. Passed years seem safe ones, vanquished ones, while the future lives in a cloud, formidable from a distance.”

~ Beryl Markham,  _ West with the Night _

__

There had been more than enough time to plan. A whole year’s worth of days spent, first, forcing Molly’s glad back into the material plane, and second, determining and preparing for every eventuality, every potential outcome. But, just because there had been enough to time plan, didn’t mean they’d figured out solutions to every single issue Caleb could potentially foresee.

He looked up from his packing, watching as Molly, antsy, twisted the hem of his gossamer mantle. “But Caleb, what if-“

“Molly, we can’t know. It is impossible to know until it’s happened, mein Schatz, and…” Caleb hesitated. “If I have to, I will find another way. You know this, right? You know that I wouldn’t abandon you?”

“I do know, husband mine.” Molly reached a hand to grab Caleb’s wrist, holding it loosely for a moment until Caleb extended his fingers out for Molly to grasp, thin lilac fingertips gently brushing the soft skin of Caleb’s wrist. He smiled, reminiscing on that midafternoon not so long ago when they’d held hands, wrapped them in cording and pledged themselves to one another.

“I know, and I know that all of this will come to a head soon, and that I oughtn’t worry about it, but you know what?”

“Was, Schatz?”

“I’m still going to worry about it. It’s a little bit my prerogative. If things go wrong, well, it’ll be my fault,” he explained.

Caleb only shook his head. “Perhaps this year was a blessing in disguise, for us to get everything figured out so that, when I bring you through, to my world, we  _ won’t _ be having things go wrong, ja?”

“Whatever you say, love.”

Caleb smiled at Molly again, twisting their shared grip to intertangle their fingers together. “I say that we have nothing for it but to try. I made a promise to you, and I won’t break it,” he vowed. “You’re going to be free now. In a few moments, the veil will shimmer and thin and we will step through it, and your world will start anew, Liebling.”

“And I’ll get to yell obscenities at cars, right?”

“Molly! If I hadn’t been hit, you realize, I’d never have remembered you, right?”

Molly crossed his arms, looking unimpressed, and waited.

“Ja, ja,” Caleb gave in. “And you will get to yell obscenities at cars.”

“Excellent. Then let’s go! I’ve given up worrying.” Molly shrugged. “There’s  _ far  _ too much to worry about for me to even try anymore.”

Rolling his eyes, Caleb finished filling the leather pack. “You are so dramatic.”

“I’m dramatic? _ Really? _ Say the man who recites me love poetry in the throes of lovemaking.”

Caleb opened his mouth, and then closed it again. It was useless to argue. Molly  _ did _ have a point. A year, was a year, regardless of where they’d spent it. And spending it together, they’d more than gotten to know one another. The level of comfort was something new for them both, but for Molly especially, who had been alone for so, so long, who had relished in the fact that another person was with him near constantly. At first, Caleb worried that Molly might cling too tightly, but it turned out for the opposite, with Molly shooing Caleb out into the world when all he wanted to do was retreat to Molly’s side.

“See, love, I know you.”

And the thing was, he did. Caleb could see it in the precise quirk of his mischievous grin, in the twitch of his eye when staring smugly, and the soft way his hand reached for Caleb’s hand whenever near enough, safe in the knowledge that Caleb would grin back, that Caleb would see his sparkling gaze, that Caleb would reach back.

And he did.

Every time.

“Mollymauk, when we get back to Germany, remind me to buy you a ring.” As he said the words, he looked away, though not in time to miss the general look of bemused confusion on Molly’s features.

“I’ll be happy to indulge in your desire to buy me more jewelry, Caleb,” he began, twisting the delicate chain that connected his earlobe and his horn, recently purchased on one of Caleb’s trips into the town nearest them. “But that sounded awfully particular, not in just a ‘I want to buy my husband sparkly things because, one, he likes them, two I like looking at him in them’ sort of way. That sounded like an ‘I have a reason but I’m not telling Molly for other reasons’ sort of way.” 

Despite himself, Caleb grinned, hiding his face by looking firmly down into the pack as he secured the straps. “Is that so?”

“Mhmm.”

A gentle touch trailed over his shoulders, leaving goosebumps in their wake, but he still didn’t look. The straps were already pulled taut, and there was little else to do, really, but he kept it up, regardless.

The hand flattened over the back of his neck, thumb rubbing back and forth slowly. “Caleb, you’re terrible at pretending.”

“Perhaps.” He gave in looking up to Molly’s expectant gaze. “But it will be a better surprise for you if we wait.”

Molly, who, now that the prospect of his prolonged isolation was in sight, scrunched his nose at the idea. “I want to know  _ now. _ ”

“Ja, I am not surprised.”

“ _ Caleb. _ ”

“You cannot tempt me.”

“Are you sure about that?”

At that, Caleb stood immediately, expression quite serious as any number of tempting distractions ran through his mind. “Molly, I am absolutely positive. The time is nearly come and the last occasion on which our transference between the realms was possible – a year ago! I do not think I need remind you – we  _ missed it _ because I was very, very thoroughly distracted, mein Schatz. So ja, I am  _ exceedingly _ sure about that.”

Molly, of course, only began to laugh, though when Caleb’s serious look didn’t dissipate, he sobered up quickly enough. “I wouldn’t jeopardize your ability to return home, Caleb. Your family and friends… I feel terrible about how worried they must be. And I still don’t like that story you came up with. Why can’t we just tell them the truth again?”

Sighing, Caleb pressed a kiss to Molly’s cheek. “I think, at this point, it will be better for me simply to show you, Liebling, but it’s like I said before, that because there is nothing like magic, or like you, for that matter, in my world, everyone will have a very hard time believing it.”

“Right, so that’s their problem, not ours. If we’re being truthful, they’ll have no reason to worry-“

“Molly. In some ways, I prefer your world. It is so much easier here. It is not so easy back home.” He could feel the worry building, contagious, it seemed, a roiling entity in his stomach. “Don’t get me wrong, life is very good and I am sure you will more than enjoy yourself, but there are so many things that we will have to do to make it work. All of my plans-“

“Are going to work just fine.” Molly took his hands and pulled them in to his chest, rested his forehead on Caleb’s, who found that the closeness alone eased his breathing. “You’ve had a whole year, darling, and I trust you. Any plan of yours is going to work. You found me, didn’t you?” He let go of Caleb’s hands, pulling him instead into an embrace. “Just, don’t listen to me. I may not understand it, but I  _ do _ trust you, so I’ll take you at your word, okay? You won’t hear any more dissent from me. Besides,” he said, pulling away a bit to look Caleb in the eyes. “Pretty soon, I’ll be too distracted uhhh,  _ giving the finger _ to cars to bother my head about the logistics of your plan.”

By everything that was Holy, Caleb loved him. He felt it so strongly that he simply had to say it.

“I love you.”

“Love you too, dear. Now. I think you’ve packed and repacked that satchel and it’s not as though we’ve got a lot of stuff to take with us anyways,” Molly said, matter of fact. “How much time’s left?”

“Not much now, not much.”

Lifting the pack onto his shoulders, Caleb started off, though not before reaching for Molly’s hand one last time. Together, they walked around the glade, Molly occasionally bending to touch a plant or caress a flower, somberly, as though saying goodbye to a close friend. The longest of those was, of course, the tree. As Molly patted the bark, Caleb’s gaze strayed to the by-then familiar roots within which the bones of his past self were contained.

He’d grown strangely attached to the idea, regardless of how utterly bizarre and unsettling it was, that tangible evidence that he’d once been another person existed in some form. Only Molly’s presence, returning with him to his plane, would keep him from thinking the whole thing a strange, protracted dream. The practical portion of his brain, long invested in planning for their homecoming, briefly decided to remind him that he could still very well be in some manner of concussion induced trance, oblivious as Professor Geddemore’s lecture continued on without his knowledge.  But a squeeze of his hand drew him back and he shook his gaze away from all that remained of Bren.

“Caleb,” Molly said, softly, pointing. “I think it’s time.”

Words escaped him, but he nodded and together they made for the curtain of branches and leaves.

On the other side, the world shimmered.

“Are you ready, Mollymauk?”

“Come what may, Caleb. Come what may.”

And together, they stepped beyond the veil.

~

The air was cooler, the way Caleb remembered it, and the smell of petrichor hung thick in the air. A low fog carpeted the space, but the extent of the rain was little more than mist. For a moment, he simply breathed in the air, relishing the fact that he was finally home, before turning to Molly.

Molly, who wasn’t there.

A split second passed where Caleb felt faint, nauseous and horrified all at once, and he spun round to see if Molly was still on the other side, only for a very different sight to meet his eyes.

It was…undoubtedly Molly, though Caleb would not immediately have known it, for the lack of horns, or a tail, or, for that matter, pointed ears and purple colouring. Even his hair was a different colour, a rich dark shade, almost black and curling round his ears and at the back of his neck, one lock flopped with careless grace over his forehead. Really, it was only the samite mantle that made it obvious at a glance, the pearlescent white of the fabric heavily contrasted against his warm brown skin. But one look at Molly’s face and it was clear that he was the same person, his features unchanged, his tattoos all present and accounted for. His eyes threw Caleb the most, no longer red, but unexpectedly light in colouration, though indistinguishable in the low light.

Well, that was one question answered, and one problem circumvented.

“Caleb?” Molly started him down, concerned. “Is something wrong?”

Without a word, Caleb nodded his head in Molly’s general direction and his husband looked down at himself for the first time since arriving, and was shocked into silence. Enraptured, turning his hands in front of his face, Mollymauk took in his new appearance, looking down his body, touching his head to feel the absence of horns, pulling his hair forward as far as he could to get a look at it.

“It’s very nearly black, Molly,” Caleb said, breaking the silence. “Are you alright?” Behind them, the veil still shimmered.

“Maybe I’ll dye it. Is that something that can be done? I’d like something to still be purple.” He mused. “It’s different, but I don’t dislike it. Do you?”

“What?”

Molly bit his lip. “Dislike it?”

“Was? Nein! Of course not. You are…you, Molly, and I love you. Even so, you are very attractive, Liebling, do not worry.”

A breath passed through Molly and he relaxed. “Well, that’s a relief! I knew I’d still be fucking gorgeous.” Taking a step forward, he reached for Caleb only to stumble, though on what Caleb couldn’t identify, but he reached out in time, pulling Molly into his arms. Molly reached back, his jaw dropping. “I haven’t got a tail! Caleb! It’s gone!”

“And you will need to learn some better balance, I guess. I am sorry for your tail, Molly.”

He shook his head. “I’ll get over it. Where are we?” he asked, looking around, though he didn’t lessen his grip on Caleb.

“We are where my camp used to be.” The space, now that Caleb was looking at it, was obviously empty. “I did suppose it had been found and dismantled. There is nothing for it save to walk. But first, you need clothes, Schatz.”

Molly drew back a hair. “Clothes?”

“Ja. You cannot go around like that here, though I know you must want to.” He walked Molly to a fallen log at set him down, before swinging the pack over his shoulders. “I packed some things for you. And shoes, which I also know you will not like, but the natural world will not be quite so kind to you here, I don’t think. Apologies, Molly.”

“What’s wrong with my clothing?” Molly asked, crossing his arms. “I’m dressed! I thought you covered up because you burn easily?”

Caleb passed the clothes over to Molly, leaning in to kiss him on the forehead as he did. “Everyone covers up, like me. It is not just because my skin is sensitive. I’m sorry I did not clarify that for you, but, well…”

Molly rolled his eyes goodnaturedly, and, finally close, Caleb could see that they were quite a peculiar shade, not quite one single colour, but several, a golden ring surrounding his pupil, merging with a vibrant greenish-blue through the iris, which was ringing in a dark, dark brown, for a rather striking, almost unsettlingly beautiful look. “You didn’t want me to have one more thing to be thinking about.” He hefted an exaggerated sigh. “Please tell me that there’s at least somewhere on earth I can dress like this?”

“In our home,” Caleb answered automatically, a second portion of an answer on the tip of his tongue before he cut himself off.

“What? What else? Caleb?” Molly pleaded, giving him the most innocent look of which he was capable.

“Ah, there are some beaches you may enjoy.” Caleb rubbed the back of his neck, flushing. “I will take you to one, I promise.”

A sly grin slid into place, familiar as ever on Molly’s features, though his sharp canines were shortened and blunted. “Excellent. I knew you loved me.”

When Molly was dressed, and – with a requisite amount of whining – shod in pair of boots that Caleb had bought for him, they started off, a little wobbly on Molly’s part, though he didn’t seem to mind too terribly much, tucked into Caleb’s side as he was. The afternoon was beautiful, light filtering down through the trees in golden shafts, in which dancing seeds and pollen were illuminated. Molly was uncharacteristically quiet, taking in everything with wide, excited eyes. If he still had had a tail, Caleb imaged it would have whacked him on the back of his legs several times already. As it was, Caleb could see him visibly vibrating with excitement as, despite being thoroughly overwhelmed, he occasionally pointed to varieties of flowers and trees he’d never before seen.

When they hit the road, things changed. The first thing that occurred, much to Caleb’s amusement, was that Molly spent an inexplicable amount of time inspecting the asphalt. It wasn’t something Caleb had anticipated, leaving him hardly able to stifle a laugh.

“It shines!” Molly pointed to the places where the sun hit the ground. “There are  _ gems _ in your  _ roads _ – how is that just a normal thing?”

“If you want gems, it will not be difficult to get them for you, and it will be much easier than attempting to pry them out of the road.” Caleb giggled, tugging Molly gently along. “My father works with gems and other stones, sometimes. I think you will like him very much,” he went on, stroking Molly’s knuckles with his thumb. “I know I have told you about my parents, but, now that you will be meeting them, I am growing quite excited, actually.”

“Not nervous?” Molly asked, suddenly far too intuitive for Caleb’s liking. “It’s going to be a lot to handle, I should think. It’s been a year, yes? And they don’t know what happened to you, and you’re going to have to lie to them  _ and _ introduce me as your husband all at once? Caleb, darling, I know that you’re worried about it, especially now that it’s actually an inevitability, and not just a possibility.”

Caleb pushed a hand through his hair, sighing. “My parents are good people. Wonderful people. As excited as I am to see them again, ja, I am terrified. I… _ hurt _ them, in doing this, I am sure. They probably think that I am dead and I could have prevented that. So, ja, nervous. But I know that once they are through their shock, they will love you dearly. And I do hope you will love them. But, we are not going to see them first at all.”

“Oh?” Molly listened intently. “Veth, then?”

“Ja,” Caleb managed a small smile. “Veth.”

They followed the road for a little ways, Molly mostly maintaining his balance, getting the hang of it as he went. Some time passed before they came to the thinning of the woods and they stepped just beyond, opening up the world before them for the first time.

“Huh.” Molly turned in a circle. “It doesn’t look all that different than- what’s that?” He stopped, pointing.

“That is a car,” Caleb said, absentmindedly as he started towards a wooden sign, flyers fluttering from its surface.

“Fuck you, car!” he heard Molly call out, but it didn’t register. He was far too preoccupied looking at his own face, printed on a paper, fighting in the wind against its staple.

  
  


MISSING

Since March 23 rd 2019

Caleb Florian Widogast

Last see hiking in NationalparkJasmund

Age: 24

Description:

1.8 m

Longish red hair

Blue eyes

Please call: 1523 4079997

Molly continued to swear in the background, but Caleb could only look at the flyer, his mouth going dry, his stomach clenching uncomfortably. The photo they’d used was from his last birthday; he remembered it best, because Veth had taken the photo. Though they were cropped out of it, Caleb knew that his mother and father were on either side of him in the picture, hugging him close between them, and while his own smile was generic, his mother was caught mid-laugh and his father’s normally sparkling eyes were squinched shut in happiness. He could remember it perfectly, how Veth had dropped the joke mid-photo, how he hadn’t caught on until it was already over, how his parents doubled over in laughter.

How much love there was in that moment.

“-aleb? Caleb? What’s that?”

Caleb blinked rapidly. “Ahh, I…I am apparently missing.” He pointed to the flyer. “That is me, and this is a description of me. And I am-“ he sucked in a breath and ran a hand over his mouth. “I am a little…”

A soft touch fell on his head, stroking his hair. “Caleb?” Molly stepped closer, and Caleb leaned into him instinctively.

“Danke, Liebling.”

The only response was the continued touch and a soft kiss to the temple. For a while, they simple stood there together, looking at the fluttering paper, the wind blowing their hair in their faces. When Caleb began to shiver, Molly slid his arm down, tucking him in close.

“C’mon, Caleb. Let’s go find Veth.” He steered them away from the sign, but stopped shortly after. “I don’t actually know where we’re going,” he stated, and the words came out so deadpan, that Caleb found himself laughing again, despite it all.

“This way, Molly. It’s not so hard. We just go away from the woods.”

“Right, right, of course. Makes perfect sense. Lead the way, love.”

The walk was a considerable while longer, and the sun arced lower in the sky as they went, following a beautiful trajectory through the pale blue sky. As familiar as the route was, Caleb paid very little heed, only steering Molly along when needed, spending far less of his time watching the route and far more of it watching Molly. The way the sun caught his nearly raven hair, shining it through with a glossy brown highlights, how, when it ruffled over his ears in the wind, it revealed rounded tips instead of the more familiar pointed ones. Yes, Molly was changed, but Caleb found he didn’t mind as much as he thought he might. Regardless of how he looked, Caleb  _ couldn’t _ look away. Whatever it was about Molly transcended the body in which he found residence. Whatever it was about Molly had long ago seated itself beneath Caleb’s skin, over Caleb’s heart, like some sort of permanent tattoo of emotion.

His wonder was perhaps the most beautiful thing about him. As they neared the town, his eyes continued to widen, and he grew even quieter. It reminded Caleb a little of Frumpkin (The thought of his sweet little cat, too, made Caleb smile a little wider, as he imagined finally being reunited.) loud noises went off, his ears perking, tail swishing, head turning at every little thing.

The chime of a bike bell, the growl of the first car they saw, Falco blaring from it’s speakers, and then, the general chatter of people. So many people. Far, far more of them than Molly had seen in…in veritable  _ thousands _ of years.

Struck utterly dumb, Molly walked in an utter stupor, looking up at the houses, watching the people unceasingly as they passed, with only Caleb guiding him about. The scent of the ocean assailed their senses, and a few gulls squawked as they flew overhead.

Eventually, the front of the Brenatto’s shop came into sight. “Molly!” He pointed. “That is Veth and Yeza’s store, and behind, on the upper floor, is their house! We are here!”

Molly nodded rapidly, gaze still lingering on the bright light streaming out from within a small café. “How do they do that?” he asked, softly, as he turned his head to Caleb, acknowledging that he’d been spoken to, while having effectively missed everything that Caleb had said. “Is it magic?”

“Nein, it is electricity.”

“Electricity?”

“Ja. Sciences. There is no magic here, not like back in your home, mein Schatz, remember?”

“Yeah, I remember.” Molly nodded absently. “I just didn’t really…I get it now, I think. This is…your world sounded so impossible before, Caleb. I couldn’t even…this is… _ wow. _ ”

Caleb chuckled. “Come, we are near Veth and Yeza’s home.”

They’d painted since the last time Caleb had been round, but the sign was still the same, as were their business hours. And, just as he’d suspected, they were already closed, undoubtedly just retiring up to their personal rooms, getting ready to have a late  _ kaffee und kuchen _ .

Pulling Molly around the back, Caleb wasted no time in finding the back door key from under the matt (Veth was too short to reach it on the eave, and Yeza wasn’t particularly tall either, part of what Caleb imagined was the original appeal to their attraction,) and unlocked the door.

“Are you sure about this, Caleb? Aren’t we liable to terrify your dear friend half to her grave, just knocking on the door like this?”

“Oh,” Caleb paused on the step, looking back down to Molly. “I am sure you will want to cover your ears. Veth can be very loud when she is highly emotional, and ja, you are right, in that she will react  _ very _ strongly.”

Molly’s smile was thin. “Joy.”

They reached the top of the stairs and Caleb rapped on the door. Through the barrier, Caleb could hear the familiar pattern of Veth’s walk and then lock switched and the door swung open and there was nothing separating Caleb and Veth. Not a door, not distance, not time. Not even other realms.

Time slowed.

The muscles in his face twitched their slow journey into a smile as Veth’s bland expression morphed into one of complete shock, and then infinite joy, her eyes watering and then, ever so slowly, tears falling like the first soft drops of rain from her eyes.

“ _ Cay-leb!”  _ she shrieked, and launched herself at him, even as he bent into her punishing embrace, meeting her halfway. Only when she was sobbing into his shoulder did he realize that he, too, was weeping rather more than gentle. He hadn’t realized how much he’d really missed them, hadn’t allowed himself to realize it. Whatever she was saying, it came out in garbled fragments that alternated between browbeating condescension, declarations of undying love, and exclamations of how he was going to be the death of her yet.

“Hallo again, Nottchen.”

“Oh-“ she sniffed. “Oh  _ Caleb, oh Caleb! _ You’re  _ home! _ You’re  _ back, you came back! _ ”

“I’m so, so, sorry, Liebchen. It won’t happen again. I swear it.”

“Good!” She was still crying, unrestrainedly. “I thought- I thought you were  _ dead _ , everyone thinks that you’re  _ dead _ , oh my  _ good  _ God, Caleb Florian  _ fucking _ Widogast, where in the HELL have you been?”

“Uh, ja, well, about that, I-“

But in the middle of his sentence, a tiny, though exceedingly loud, wail, erupted from another room, capturing his attention. Shocked, he turned back to Veth automatically, who was twisting the hem of her blouse.

“Well. About that. You know, you’ve been gone a year, and I was going to tell you…you know  _ before _ , but you didn’t really you know, seem like you were in a place and…”she trailed off. “Well anyways, come meet your namesake.”

“ _ Was?” _

She smiled, a tiny, watery thing. “His name is Luc. Luc Caleb Brennato. He’s my son. And he’ll be your godchild, if you…if you like.”

“I…wow…you…Congratulations!”

Veth beamed. “Thanks! But you haven’t even seen him yet! He looked pretty terrible when he was first born, to be honest, all red and wrinkly and kinda like an alien, you know, but, well, now I happen to think he’s  _ perfect _ .” A brief pause ensued, and Caleb almost managed to say something, but Veth beat him to it. “Aren’t you going to introduce me?”

Caleb whirled. Behind him, standing just within the doorway, was Molly.

“Ah, ja, well, you sort of…have already heard much about one another.” Caleb scratched a little at his jaw. “Veth, Schatzi, this is-“

“Mollymauk. Molly to my friends, Mrs. Brenatto.” Molly swept in, closing the door behind him. “Though I imagine that when you were told of me, you were told I was significantly more purple.”

Veth’s expression, at first wide with awe, hardened as she looked Molly over while Caleb held his breath and then, finally, smirked. “Among other things. And it’s Veth, please. Well, I guess I know where you’ve been now, but I expect  _ full details _ , alright?”

“Of course. You are, after all, Caleb’s dearest friend, and what sort of husband would I be if I didn’t account for that?”

Caleb swallowed  _ hard _ and Veth’s eyes moved, locking onto him, though the rest of her stayed completely, utterly still.

“Husband, hey?” She said, though Caleb couldn’t ascertain if it was directed and himself or at Molly. “Well. You  _ do _ have a story to tell! Come on in then. I’ve got to see to Luc.”

She turned and went in without any further ado, Molly following first, and then Caleb. The baby had ceased crying, and Caleb could hear the soft tones of Yeza from the other room. As they turned the corner, he even caught the tail end of a few words.

“-as it?”

“Let me take Luc,” Veth was saying. “Trust me, you don’t want to be holding him for this. Now, go look in the hall.”

Caleb almost felt sorry for poor, tenderhearted Yeza, as he crossed the threshold and, upon seeing Caleb, promptly went pale and began stammering before pulling himself back beyond their sight. Veth had always had a small, sadistic streak, and Caleb felt his heart warm to see that some things hadn’t changed.

“G-g-gh-“

“No, it’s just Caleb, Yeza. He’s not a ghost. Now. Let’s all go have a seat in the living room, alright? And Caleb can hold Luc while we do the whole catching up thing. Oh, also,” she pulled him by the arm back into the hall. “That’s Molly, Caleb’s husband. Molly, this is my husband, Yeza Brenatto. He’s very,  _ very _ smart and lovely and I’m terribly sorry, but you can’t have him, I know you’d drop Caleb in a heartbeat, just looking at his  _ long _ , luscious sideburns,” she intoned rather pointedly, and if Caleb didn’t already know any better, he might not have picked up on the joke. “but he’s already taken. And, well, if you ever leave Caleb – even for someone perfectly understandable, like my Yeza - I’d have to kill you, you know, for hurting him. So don’t do it.”

Caleb stifled a laugh. Veth was an absolute  _ master _ of threats that were not so thinly veiled, and somehow, she’d met her match with Molly, who smiled, absolutely salaciously, his hand trailing down from the small of Caleb’s back to his ass, and squeezed.

“Don’t worry. As luscious as your dear husband’s sideburns may be, I’m quite happy with my own dear husband, thanks. I don’t think I’ll be letting him go any time soon.” He turned his wickedly gleaming smile on Yeza. “Pleasure to meet you, dear. Shall we to the ah, what was it…sitting room, then?”

Yeza blinked, opened his mouth, and then closed it again, smiling a tight lipped smile. “Of course, I’ll just…get the coffee. And the torte. I’ll…be back. Yep. I’ll just be in the kitchen and you can go sit down and I’ll be right…out…”

As Yeza darted away, Molly turned to Veth, grinned. “Flighty fellow, isn’t he? I can see why you love him though. A complete sweetheart, yeah?”

“Oh, most definitely. And a real genius, though that wasn’t exactly the best display of it. I assure you, he’s much better spoken than this. He also still doesn’t speak German quite as well as we do, considering he’s Italian, you know. Mostly we speak French together, but I don’t gather you know French.”

Molly shook his head. “Not a lick.”

“Well,” Veth said, “Come on then.” She led them to the sitting room, though Caleb knew it well, and pointed at him firmly. “You sit here. Arms out, because you’re gonna hold a baby okay?” Before Caleb could say a word, Luc was deposited securely in his arms, wriggling a little before settling in.

“He’s beautiful,” Caleb murmured, looking from the baby to his best friend. “I am glad for you.”

Molly had yet to sit down, looking around the room with rapt attention, if rapt attention could be transferred from thing to thing rapidly. First, it was the furniture, which he examined curiously, touching the wood backs, the fabrics, and then, it was the walls, and the picture frames, and then, finally, the mirror.

He stood there a long while, silently. Veth was watching him too, and leaned over, briefly, to whisper. “He hasn’t ever seen himself in a mirror, has he?”

“No, not like this, especially,” Caleb muttered back. “This is… all new to him.”

Veth made a noise. “He’s a looker.” The silence that ensued was long and awkward. “What?” Veth turned to look at him. “I’m not wrong.”

“Ah, no, you are not. But as you so kindly told Molly, the reverse is also true. That is  _ my _ husband over there, and he is not up for grabs, ja?”

“Yeah, yeah. I know.” Her face contorted for a moment, and Caleb found himself looking between her and the baby every few moments.

“Are you alright?” he asked, mildly concerned.

Veth only nodded. “I’m trying to imagine him purple. It’s not really working.”

“Vibrantly lilac in colour.”

“Hmm.”

“Can you help him dye his hair?”

“Oh, absolutely!” Grinning, she patted the seat beside her briefly, calling Molly’s attention. “Come sit, Molly!”

At the sound of his name, Molly perked up. “Sorry, what?”

“Come sit! So Caleb can tell everything.”

It was amusing, Caleb determined as Veth babbled on, to watch Molly inspect the couch before sitting, a little like a cat entering new surroundings for the first time. He touched the cushion first, then flopped down, apparently content, immediately crossing his legs, the one resting over the other bobbing gently.

“This is rather nice. Very comfortable.”

“Oh, just you wait, sweetheart, until Caleb shows you a  _ mattress _ . And even better yet,  _ illows _ . Now. There’s the whole rest of your lives to learn about the amenities of the modern world, but right now, I want to know the story, and then, you know  _ the story _ .” She winked, a very over exaggerated gesture, and Caleb knew immediately what she meant.

“We have something worked up for my parents, ja. But everything else is pretty straightforward. I figured out how to get to Molly, obviously.” Caleb scratched the back of his neck. “But then I sort of…waited too long to go back through the rift between our worlds and it wouldn’t open again for a year. So we had to wait.”

“Gotcha.” If Veth noticed his momentary hesitation, she didn’t mention it. “And the  _ other _ story?”

At that, Caleb winced. “Right. I figured it had to make sense, so the plan is to tell my parents and…well, most everyone, that as a complication of my other memory problems I entered a fugue state and came out of it with a different identity. I moved to Ireland and met Molly there. We fell in love and got married and then, when I got another concussion, I came out of my fugue and remembered who I am, but we decided we are still in love and will remain married. Richtig, Schatz?”

“ _ Absolument,” _ she grinned, and then fixed Caleb with a look. “So who’s going to know the truth and who isn’t meant to?”

“Ah, well, if you wish to tell Yeza, I will not stop you. Beau, we will tell, or she would punch it out of me regardless. That, I believe, is it.”

“Alright, good, good. I can work with that.” Switching her attention from Caleb, Veth placed her hand on Molly’s. “So, how are you doing, now that you’re here? Alright? Do you like the couch?”

“Do I…like the couch?” He narrowed his eyes.

“Yeah.”

“What is ‘the couch?’”

“You’re sitting on it.”

Caleb couldn’t help himself; maybe it was the way Molly was situated so comfortably, or the fact that couches were a mundane thing not to know about, maybe it was the stress, or the nerves, or maybe it was just genuinely funny. Whatever it was, he burst into such laughter that he hadn’t experienced in too, too many months. (Probably going all the way back to the time, not so long before his bicycle accident, when Beau, in an attempt to impress the girl that moved into the unit next door to them, decided it would be a good idea to try a football trick she’d never done before without…’keeping her eye on the ball’, as the Americans put it. The effect was rather lackluster, but Caleb had enjoyed it quite a bit, despite Beau’s bruised ego). Doubled over, though carefully, over the baby, a pain jabbing into his side, Caleb struggled to take a breath through his uncontrollable laughter.

At first, through his tearing eyes, Veth and Molly only looked at him with vague amusement and concern before, little by little, spluttering, the too descended into laughter. A noise at the doorway drew Caleb’s attention and he and the others looked up to see Yeza, holding a teatray, thoroughly confused.

“I… guess I have missed something?”

The laughter double down tenfold, and for the first time in a long, long time, Caleb genuinely felt like everything might be okay.  

~

The afternoon passed quickly. They managed a quick, improvised meal before Veth put the baby back down and Yeza left to reopen the shop. In their absence, Molly stood once more, pacing about the room, Caleb at his side. The small joy he took in explaining the meanings and uses of various things, providing words for the inanities and nicknacks that filled the space.

Vases, pillows, shelves; all were beyond his knowledge and in all the time that they had spent together in the glade, Caleb had never thought to mention them. Strangely enough, once Caleb told him what things were, Molly seemed to know the words themselves. It was the visual elements that prevented him from making the connections. The knowledge was there, but the memories of them were lost. A piece of his long lost history, it seemed.

Bren’s memories of that past remained Caleb’s alone. One night, not long after his stranding, Caleb had mentioned it in passing and been met with the harshest refusal on Molly’s part. He was happy, he’d maintained, without knowing. And so, Caleb bore the knowledge alone.

“And that?” Molly asked, pointing at a little painting. “And what’s around it?”

“Picture and frame.”

“Ah. Yeah, I knew that too.” Molly grasped Caleb’s arm. “I’m sorry. My memory has to be bad to compensate for how good yours is, I guess,” he said, chuckling.”

“Oh, he’s perfect for you, isn’t he, Caleb?” Veth said, from behind them. “Come on, I’ve got something for the both of you.”

Down below, in the Brenatto’s little garage, Veth rolled out her own bike. “You’ll have to make some adjustments,” she said, offhandedly. “But it should get you to the cabin. We haven’t rented it out at all, Caleb. It’s just the way you left it. I couldn’t bear…” she sniffed. “I couldn’t bear to change it. I was sure you were still out there somewhere. You’re welcome to it, just the same as always, of course. And tomorrow, I’ll drive you to your parents.”

“Danke schön, mein Schatz.” Caleb put a hand on her shoulder. “Can I ask of you one more favour?”

“Of course, Cay. Anything.”

Briefly, he glanced at Molly. “In the morning, will you call my parents and let them know that we are coming?”

Smile wobbling, Veth nodded. “I will.” On her tiptoes, Veth pulled him down by the shoulder and pressed a kiss to his cheek. “Now. You know what to do, Cay. I’ll leave you to it. Oh! And one more thing.” She turned to Molly. “I already gave you my talking to, so I guess that’s taken care of, but Caleb said you might like to dye your hair. I can help with that, if you like.”

As far as welcomings went, Caleb knew it was one of her better ones.

Molly barked a laugh and grinned. “I’ll take you up on that, thank you. Now. This looks like it only has one seat. Please explain how in the hells this is supposed to work?”

But Veth didn’t give him an inch. “Caleb knows, don’t you Caleb. Now, I’ve got to get back to the shop. See you in the morning.”

“Bis Morgan.”

“Tchüß!”

“Tchüß!”

Without another word, Veth turned and traipsed back up the steps.

“And this is?” Molly asked, once she was gone.

“A bike.”

“Oh! This is what you were riding when you were hit.”

Caleb nodded. “Ja. It is.” He adjusted the seat and the handlebar appropriately before swinging his leg over the frame. “Komm hier, Liebling,” he said, patting the handlebars. “We are not far from the cabin where we will live, so it will not be too difficult for us to do this. You face outwards and sit atop the handlebars here, and I will pedal us home.”

“Home?”

There was a tremor in Molly’s voice that Caleb didn’t anticipate at the use of the word, and he took a moment to gaze into his husband’s eyes. It surprised him, and then, just as quickly shamed himself. He’d taken Molly away from everything he’d ever known, everything he could ever recall, a place to which he was so vitally connected that his very mood could alter it, and, for the cherry on top, he no longer even  _ looked _ like himself.

“Oh Schatz.” Caleb reached a hand to his cheek. “I am sorry.”

“For what?”

“Here I am, luxuriating in being home, and you have left yours behind, and so,  _ so _ much more, and I have given you no consideration.”

Lashes fluttering almost shyly, Molly looked down and away. “I’m free, Caleb, and I have a whole world to explore now, where I hadn’t the option before. Yes, it’s a lot, but I can handle it. But you’ve been missing this place and these people for a whole year. I’m happy to see you happy. There’s no need for apologies, beloved.”

The familiar endearment settled warm beside Caleb’s heart. “Thank you, Liebling.”

“Now, Caleb, my love. Take us home?” He asked, imploringly, before his nose crinkled. “Once you show me how to get on, that is?”

“Step over the wheel, hop up, and we will be off.”

The moment Molly was situated, Caleb took off. It was a rush to feel the wind in his hair again, even if Molly blocked it a little, but his joyous whoop was well worth it. The sun was setting, dousing the world in splendorous golds and oranges, warming them from the western coast as they rode on, down the hill on which the Brenatto shop was situated towards a winding, forested road. Caleb knew it by heart, ever bump, every divot, every turn, and Molly, his grip on the handlebars furious despite his carefree laughter, was at the head of it all, face turned to the sun, hair flying out behind him in rich, dark curls.

All too soon, the cabin was ahead of them, the sun filtered out through the tree cover, and the ride was at an end. Molly sprung down from the bike and spun in a circle before bending himself in half, head hung down, hands braced above his knees.

“What a rush! That’s incredible, Caleb! No wonder you love them so much. Teach me?” he asked, once he was upright again, positively beaming.

“Of course. Whatever you want.”

“I want to learn.”

“Then it will be done.”

They found the key in the place it always was and Caleb stepped aside to let Molly in first, just barely able to close the door behind them before clothes started hitting the floor.

“What on earth are you doing?” he asked, bemused, head shaking.

“You said,” Molly said, partway through dropping his pants, “that I could be naked in the comfort of my own home. Well. I’m home, and I’d like my mantle back now, if you please.”

“Then you won’t be naked.” Caleb couldn’t help but tease him, even as he pulled the garment from his pack. “There you go,” he said, passing it over. “And here I thought that you just couldn’t wait to sleep with me in a real bed.”

“A bed?”

Caleb only grinned, knowingly. “Follow me.”

“I know that it’s not much,” he said, “but to you, it will be heavenly, I hope. You see that? Go, plop yourself down on it, like this.” With his back to the bed, Caleb allowed himself to fall over, landing with a cushioned bounce, rumpling the pristine coverlet. With a grin, he  sat up. “Your turn.”

Molly, with a curiously mischievous look turned and did the same, landing beside Caleb on the bed. “Oh, I  _ do _ like this. This is fantastic. And you say that we’re meant to sleep here?”

“Ja. This is our bed.”

Molly sat up too, and then leaned into Caleb’s space. “Our bed.” His fingers walked their way up Caleb’s chest, enticingly. “Where we sleep.” He leaned in ever closer. “Together.” Molly’s palm fell flat over his rapidly beating heart and Caleb swallowed.

“Ja.” He said, before pressing forward the last few inches necessary for their lips to meet. Molly pushed him back and they fell together onto the mattress.

Later, warm and sated, they lay curled together under the comforter, Molly shifting and adjusting, finding the perfect position in a world where he didn’t have to accommodate horns and a tail.

“Beds are great and I am definitely sad that we didn’t have one of these before,” he muttered as he finally found a place he liked, grabbing Caleb’s hand and holding it loosely. “So. Can we go over this one more time, you know, just so that I don’t butcher everything in front of your parents tomorrow.”

“Of course, Liebling.” Caleb knew their story well by heart, as nervous as he was to tell it. “Lingering effects from my concussion sent me into a fugue – “

“And when you came out of it, you thought your name was Bren Aldric Ermendrud, and that’s the name I met you with, which  _ isn’t _ a lie, technically,” Molly was quick to cut in.

“Correct. We met in Ireland, where you are from and fell in love and were married.”

“Why’s it Ireland again?”

“Because, Schatz, you sound as though you’ve a bit of an Irish accent.”

Molly harrumphed, but took it in stride. “I’ve no idea about my family, except that they were of Indian heritage. I’m orphaned.”

“Correct.”

Rubbing Caleb’s hand absently, Molly sighed. “Have your parents ever been to Ireland?”

“Nein, thankfully not, and I do not believe they went their over the past year, though we may perhaps wish to ask Veth, though I suppose she’d have said something earlier if they had.” It was a worry, certainly, that Caleb had considered, but there was very little to be done about such things.

“So I don’t need to know anything about the political landscape? Can you show me pictures though? I might need to know about the real landscape. And cities and landmarks. The capital is Dublin, right?”

Caleb nodded. “Ja, I think you should not have any trouble, Liebling.”

“But we met in Galaway.”

“Ja. That’s right.”

“And I’m a florist by trade. That’s what it’s called right? A florist? Someone who cares for flowers?”

“Correct.” Caleb couldn’t help but smile at the memory, how they had discussed their future, the nature of the life they would lead together.  _ “I want to work with flowers.” _ he recalled Molly saying. All the same, it did bring up one other nervous thought.

University.

Still unsure of what he’d do, Caleb rolled onto his back and looked up at the ceiling. Instantly, Molly followed him.

“Don’t think, darling. You have time tomorrow to think, but you’ll need to be well rested to see your parents tomorrow. Stop that brain whirring, or I’ll have to stop it for you, yeah?”

A breathy half laugh escaped him and he gazed up into Molly’s open, concerned face. “Okay, you have convinced me,” he raised a hand to cup Molly’s cheek. “Time for bed then.”

“Excellent!”

With a flop, Molly was back down on the bed beside him, turning away. “Now come here, you, get your arm around me. It’s my turn to be the ‘little spoon’, finally.”

Happily, Caleb obeyed. He pressed a gentle kiss to Molly’s temple and lay back down, curling behind Molly. “Schlaf gut, Liebling.”

“Sleep well, dearest.”

And, though Caleb hadn’t anticipated it, he did. 

 


	11. 9.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again to the loveliest of beta's, senor_sparklefingers
> 
> I have officially finished writing this story! There will be a BTS chapter to fill the slot of 'chapter 14' and then, I will add a oneshot timestamp to this as part of a new 'series' detailing a story from Beau's pov set a year later, so please be on the lookout for that.

9.

Trees have long thoughts, long-breathing and restful, just as they have longer lives than ours. They are wiser than we are, as long as we do not listen to them. But when we have learned how to listen to trees, then the brevity and the quickness and the childlike hastiness of our thoughts achieve an incomparable joy. Whoever has learned how to listen to trees no longer wants to be a tree. He wants to be nothing except what he is. That is home. That is happiness.”

~ Herman Hesse, Bäume.  _ Betrachtungen und Gedichte _

“When are you going to tell me what this is about?”

Resolutely, Caleb ignored Molly’s line of questioning. “Just tell me which is your favourite,” he replied.

“Veth!”

“Nope! Not saying a word.”

Molly looked back down to the display of rings. “You know my favourite could be very different depending on the context. Which, if I had it, would be appreciated…” He glared playful daggers at Caleb. “Just tell me and I’ll pick one.”

“Just pick one and I will tell you.” Caleb replied, mirthful, before having mercy, and adding, “Pick the one you can see yourself wearing every day. The one that you are happiest with in a daily circumstance.”

Molly pouted. “That’s a lot of pressure. I guess…daily?” Caleb nodded emphatically. “As much as it pains me to say, something simple is probably the best. I’d like-“ He took a moment to consider, it seemed, the rest of the jewelry with which he was adorned. “Gold. I think. My last piece was silver, so gold, this time.” Scanning the display, he stopped, pointing to a simple, etched gold band.

“You are sure?” Caleb asked, just a tad nervous.

“Yes. Well – wait.” Molly tapped the glass. “Pardon me, can I see the one next to it? The two toned?”

The shopkeep smiled at him and removed the simple but beautiful band, two toned gold and white gold with a simple geometric etching. Without any ceremony, Molly shoved it on a finger – his pointer – and found that it didn’t fit, before – much to Caleb’s relief – sliding it onto his ring finger, holding it out over the display. “Hmm. Yeah, that’s nice. What do you think?”

Caleb felt his breath stolen away at the very idea. “it is lovely, Schatz,” he said, quickly scanning the interior of the shop for Veth, Luc wrapped securely over her chest, who was discretely pointing to another case nearby, undoubtedly having found what it was that Caleb was searching for.  “We will take that one, danke,” he said offhand to the shopkeep, who took the ring from Molly, who began to chat amicably. Using the moment to sneak off, Caleb made his way to the other case.

“Did you find something like what I was hoping for?”

“Yep!” Veth pointed, and Caleb saw a lovely warm toned yellow-gold ring with a leaf motif that repeated three times, evenly spaced.

“It’s perfect,” he said, a hint of awe in his voice. “Thank you, Liebchen.”

“No problem. Now, you take this,” she said, passing off her little wallet and I’ll get Molly outside.” She beamed at him. “This is so much fun! Thank you Caleb, for letting me help with this! I’ll call your parents when we’re outside, okay?”

His growing elation waned a bit at that. “Ja, okay.”

“It’s going to be alright, Caleb.” Veth lay her hand on his shoulder. “Now, go on!” She shooed him. “Molly! Come outside with me, please?”

Molly, smiling, set the ring back down on the counter and almost jogged over to meet Veth. He was wearing Caleb’s clothes again, which did something to Caleb that he wasn’t quite ready to come to terms with yet.

The bell to the shop tinkled brightly and once he was sure that Molly was not going to peek back inside, he turned to the proprietor. “Hallo Berti.”

“Caleb. I didn’t say anything in front of your…”

“Husband. The rings are…a bit late, and I think he has mostly forgotten.” Caleb waved his hand. “How have you been?” he asked, a bit awkwardly.

“I am well. Have you…do your parent’s know that you-“

“It’s complicated. Suffice to say that none of this was my intention and I am excited to see my parents again. But first, I have one more purchase to make.” He pointed down at the display. “This gold with the leaves, bitte?”

While Berti rang up the prices and packaged away the rings, Caleb mused briefly over just how much of a to do his return was likely to be, especially since he had been rumoured deceased. There was the matter of paperwork, insurance, his scholarships, his bank accounts, and his things. It was all likely to be a great big mess. And then there was the matter of Mollymauk’s paperwork. It was something he hadn’t mentioned to Molly, simply because he hadn’t wanted him to do any more worrying, especially over something he was only half likely to understand.

Yet one more thing he’d have to discuss with Veth.

He paid the bill – with Veth’s card – and meandered back outside. On a bench, nearby, Molly and Veth sat, speaking in close confidence about something he could not hear. Molly’s hand rested ever so gently over baby Luc’s back and the hard ball of stress that was ever growing in his chest loosened.

“Hallo, I am back,” he announced. Almost instantly, Molly made to stand, and Caleb put up a hand to stop him. “Nein, bitte. Sit please.”

“But Veth’s called your parents and-“

“Molly, my love, please. Sit. This will take but one moment.” Caleb pulled the little velvet boxes out of the bag, settling it on the bench next to Veth before taking Molly’s and kneeling in front of him. “In your home, we were married by your customs. But here, in my home, there are a few things that go along with that declaration.” He opened the box before Molly, revealing the very same ring he’d picked out for himself only minutes before. “Please, accept this ring as a symbol of my love and devotion to our life together as one.”

A soft, tender gasp escaped from Molly’s lips as he took the box from Caleb. “You’re ridiculous,” he said, but his voice quavered with emotion as Caleb removed the ring and grasped Molly’s hand, slipping it securely onto the appropriate finger. “I love you,” he said, leaning over to throw his arms around Caleb’s shoulders. “Have you got a ring then, too?”

“I do.” Caleb said. Molly didn’t bat an eyelash.

“Well, let’s get it out. I’ll kneel and you can sit then. Go on!”

Obligingly, Caleb traded places, waiting as Molly rummaged with the bags, putting away the other ring box and taking out Caleb’s.

“Oh! It’s got leaves on it! That’s lovely, Caleb.” Then, Molly knelt. It was strange still, to see him looking thus, but the smart smile on his face and the shining of his eyes was the same that Caleb had known over lifetimes and he reminded himself that this was indeed Molly. “Right then. I didn’t pick this ring for you, but I did pick you, and I made a promise to you that I’d be true to you, and that I’d love you eternally, and care for you always. And so, I’d hope you’ll also wear a ring for me, as I do now for you.”

Caleb allowed Molly’s deft fingers to take ahold of his, the contrast of their skin tones just as evident as before, and took heart in that similarity, that Molly would always be bold and vibrant, regardless of his horns, or tail, or lack thereof. Molly, too, seemed to take pause as he watched his own, unfamiliar fingers slide Caleb’s ring onto his finger, though exactly what the pause regarded was uncertain. Suffice to say, that morning, Molly had spent several minutes simply refamiliarizing himself with his body in front of the mirror. When asked, he’d only replied that he was checking to make sure he hadn’t lost any tattoos in the transfer. Caleb hadn’t said anything, but he’d still managed to catch the look in Molly’s eyes, which he knew only too well.

“There,” Molly said, clasping their hands together. “Now we’re Earth wedded. Germany wedded? Human wedded? Whatever. Kiss me, Caleb. I’m your husband.”

And kiss him, Caleb did.

Veth’s car was still parked at her shop, since they’d walked to the jeweler’s. When they were nearly there, Veth stopped, winding the sling from around her petite torso, loosening the baby’s confines. “Here,” she handed him off to Caleb again, who took Luc mostly steadily. “I’ll get the car open and then you can give him back to me. I just need to put him in the car seat.”

The little green Peugeot beeped open, but, as she opened the door, Molly stopped dead in his tracks.

“That’s a car.”

“Yeah? So?” Veth called from the other side of the vehicle, working as Caleb dutifully held Luc.

“You’re going to put a baby inside the thing that almost killed Caleb?” he fairly cried, almost sounding hysterical. “I’m meant to get in there too? And Caleb? It’s a killing machine!”

“Molly-” Caleb started, ready to placate him, but Veth beat him to the punch.

“Yesterday you rode on the handlebars of a bike, the thing that Caleb was riding when he  _ was _ hit, but you didn’t have a problem with that? Trust me. I drive a lot better now that I’ve got Luc in the car with me than I ever did before. Get in the car, so we get to Caleb’s parents before they come to us, yeah?”

Stopped silent in his tracks, Molly opened and closed his mouth a few times before stalking up to the car and wrenching open the side door, settling himself inside, next to Luc, with a huff, arms crossed as though he were a petulant child. Veth snickered, earning her another glare.

“Just let me have this one thing, alright? Just this one thing,” he begged as he settled himself into the seat.

Veth busied herself with Luc’s car seat. “I’m not saying a word! Not a word!”

Meanwhile, a plain was forming in Caleb’s mind, and he, glad that, from where he was standing, Molly couldn’t see him, smiled wickedly. He passed Luc off to Veth at her indication and casually walked around to the other side of the car, leaning his forearm over the doorway.

“Hallo, Schatz.”

“Hello, Caleb,” Molly replied, a bit brusque. When he didn’t immediately speak up, Molly finally glanced at him. “Something the matter?”

“Ja, you see, you are not done getting in the car.”

“Why? Because I didn’t shut the door?”

Caleb grinned. The tiny quirk of Molly’s eyebrows indicated that he’d realized something was up, but Caleb was garnering entirely too much joy out of the whole overdone set up of the thing. “Nein, liebling. That’s not it.”

“Alright then, what is?”

Ducking into the vehicle, Caleb reached across Molly’s lap, purposefully slow, watching his eyes widen and then the strange look of consternation as he pulled up the buckle for the belt. “Hold this,” he instructed, grabbing the belt with his other hand and pulling it down to latch. “There. Now you will not go flying when Veth takes the corner.”

Wide eyes widened further and then narrowed. “Oh, you’re mean! You’re an absolute pest, Caleb Widogast!” he cried, tapping Caleb on the side of the arm. “That’s not true is it?”

“Unfortunately, Molly, I am most certainly speaking the truth.” He let the teasing tone fall away. “It’s not just about Veth’s driving though. Everyone need to buckle up to be safe. You were right in saying that the bikes can be dangerous. So can be cars. And that is why we take proper precautions. So, bitte, please be sure that whenever you get in a vehicle, you make sure that you strapped in properly? I don’t want to frighten you, I am just making sure you understand.”

“Crystal, darling. Absolute crystal.”

Veth was already in the car by the time that Caleb got himself in, too, and she wasted no time is starting off.

“So I called them while you were in the shop, of course, like Molly said. I told them I had you and that I was bringing you home, just like you asked. They had so many questions, but I didn’t answer any of them and told them to stay put-“ She glanced at the car clock. “And we’re on schedule to get there by nine thirty like I promised. Oh Cay, they’re pretty upset. I mean, I know that’s about what you expected, but there was a lot of crying and a lot of yelling, like, really a lot, and I promised them that you’re alright and that everything is going to be fine, so I’m sure they’ll be in a real fucking state when we get you home.”

Caleb nodded, but remained quiet.

“You want me to call Beau later today, too? Give her the low down so you have one less person to deal with? Or?”

“Ja, danke,” he said, before continuing. “And tell her that I will call her this evening, then, so that she does not bother me while I am with my parents.”

“I definitely can-“ Veth cut off, her head whipping around for a moment, before turning back to the road. “Molly what the fuck are you doing?!”

Automatically, Caleb turned around too, heart beat spiking, only to see Molly, with the window down and his head stuck out the side, like a dog, smiling wide as his hair streamed back in the slipstream; the newly risen sun was bright on his face and he had his eyes closed, as if basking in it.

“Molly, my love, you look terribly becoming like that, but you must be careful, in case a rock flies up, or you will lose more probably than just teeth,” he called out, over the sound of the wind.

Instantaneously Molly’s head was back inside the vehicle, back ramrod straight. “What is with you people and dangerous ways of getting around? Why don’t you just walk places? Or take horses and carts?” he asked, sounding a little shaken and mildly disgusted.

“Oh, you know, Superman fell off a horse and was paralyzed for life!” Veth said, nodding emphatically at Molly through the rear view mirror, where he sat, wide eyed.

“Nottchen, don’t traumatize him! He doesn’t even know who Superman is.” Caleb turned in his seat. “Molly, you are not going to die in this car, or anything else. Relax. People do fall off horses. Superman was just not as lucky as some people. But we do not ride horses in my family, and you don’t have to worry about it, okay?”

“You people are all crazy here,” Molly said, shaking his head. “Crazy, I tell you.”

Caleb reached back his hand for Molly’s wiggling his fingers. “Are you alright, Molly?”

It only took a moment before Molly took Caleb’s hand in his own. “Yes, yes, I’m fine. I just…liked the breeze, that’s all.”

Squeezing Molly’s hand, Caleb smiled. “There are a few places I will take you where you can have that again. In the meantime, it’s okay to stick your arm out of the car. Just…your face is maybe not a great idea.”

“Point taken, love. Point taken.”

Their fingers disentangled and fell away and Caleb turned back towards the front of the vehicle, while Molly, instead of resting is arm on the window, instead turned to make silly faces at the baby. Caleb smiled as he leaned back into his head rest.

“They’ll love him, you know,” Veth said, tapping his arm gently. “I said that someone would be with you besides me, but that’s all I said. I didn’t think it would be good for them to go into that completely blind, you know?”

“Ah, ja, that’s probably a good move.” He contemplated for a minute and then shifted in his seat again. “Do you think I should just text Beau now?”

“What?!” Veth exclaimed. “No way! Let me do it, or she’ll call you right off and ream you out when you’re trying to get inside to your parents. I know how much she means to you, but Beau can wait.”

Caleb snorted. “Oh, she would absolutely  _ love  _ to hear you say that.”

Veth chuckled. “If I call her, she’ll probably drop everything and drive out, anyways. Take tonight. You’ll need it after you talk to your parents.”

Knowing that she wasn’t wrong, Caleb only nodded, accepting the offer. The drive wasn’t really all that long. Caleb didn’t really have much time after that to contemplate what he would say when he saw his family again, which was a good thing, because the more he thought about it, the worse he felt, as though an uncomfortable warms were growing in his chest, pushing it’s way up his throat. Veth stopped on the road to let them out, catching Caleb’s hand before he left, to squeeze it.

“I love you, Caycay.”

“I liebe dich, auch, Schatzi,” he replied and stepped from the car. He barely heard it as she drove off, instead listening to the tweeting of the birds and the rustle of the trees, and the scent of the ocean on the wind, somehow so uniquely  _ home _ in a way that, though similar to Molly’s glade, felt entirely different.

Molly came up behind him and slid his arm around Caleb’s waist. “Are you ready, darling?” he asked softly.

Caleb took a deep breath. “As I will ever be.” And together, they started forward, though they didn’t make it more than a few steps before Caleb’s parents both burst out the front door, running towards him. He almost missed it as Molly stepped aside, for he was quite suddenly and forcefully enveloped in his sobbing mother’s embrace, his father following her, wrapping his arms around them both.

“Oh, Caleb, oh my Caleb! My Caleb!” his mother repeated, over and over again through her tears and he felt his own, long squashed emotion welling up and over as he descending into sobs as well, his weight going lax against them as he leaned into the familiar comfort of their arms.

“Es tut mir leid, Mama, Vati, es tut mir leid, wirklich, wirklich!”

“Oh, Caleb.”

For a while, they simply stayed that way, holding one another close. Caleb couldn’t be sure quite how long it lasted, but when they finally pulled apart, it was only for his mother to grasp his face tightly between her palms and look him over carefully. He could imagine his face, blotched red, glasses smudged and fogged, eyes swollen behind their glass.

“Oh, it’s you, my boy, my sweet boy,” she was smiling, and it was beautiful despite the fact that she too was red faces, wispy flyaway hairs stuck to tacky trying tears. A hand, warm and strong, gripped his shoulder.

“You have a lot of explaining to do, but we are just glad that you are home, ja? Please, don’t do that again.” The timber and cadence of his father’s wavering voice sent an uncomfortable spike of guilt in his gut, but he nodded.

“I didn’t mean for any of this to happen, Vati, Mutti. I promise. I promise, I didn’t mean for this to happen!” he placated them, attempting not to cry any further. “I have a lot to explain, I know. But…but first, you have to meet someone very important to me.” Breathing deep, Caleb turned to Molly was watching them with an unidentifiable emotion painted across his features. Whatever it was, it dissipated as he caught Caleb’s eye, smiling flaking it away like ash. “Mutti, Vati, this is Mollymauk. My…husband.”

“It’s my absolute pleasure to meet you Mr. and Mrs. Widogast,” Molly said. Though it sounded practiced, almost, it was clearly shot through with nerves. “And I’m so very glad that you and your son could be reunited, and so sorry that it hadn’t happened sooner.”

For one, infinitely long moment, no one moved, the end of Molly’s sentence giving way to a silence filled only by the breeze and the birds, though they seemed somehow muted by the pounding of blood past Caleb’s ears.

“We are also sorry for this. But I am pleased to meet you as well.” Caleb’s father walked forward. “Please, call me Leofric, Mollymauk, since you are family.” He stuck out his hand and Molly reached over and shook it, genially.

So much had changed in one year, Caleb could hardly believe his eyes.

“Of course, Leofric.” Molly cocked a signature grin. “Thank you.”

“Veth did say that there would be someone with you…” Una was looking at Molly, eyes wide, but expression as open as always. “We set the table for four, you…you haven’t eaten yet, have you?”

“Nein, Mama, we haven’t eaten.”

“Good. We’ll have breakfast then, while you…while we catch up.”

The atmosphere wasn’t quite tense, but Caleb held his tongue, only nodding as he allowed his mother to steer him inside, his father standing back to let Molly pass in front of him. At first, it felt like normal. Entering his own home had never felt like a  _ big _ deal before. He’d grown up there, he was more than used to the say things looked, smelled, sounded, but it was suddenly, overwhelmingly so much  _ more _ . The scent of coffee curled through the air, heady and comforting, and, for perhaps the first time, Caleb noticed that there was another aroma to the house, something achingly familiar and indescribable, as though he’d known it his whole life. After a moment, it struck him what it was, and for the first time since he’d returned, Caleb realized exactly how long he’d been gone that he was effectively a stranger in the house in which he’d grown up, that he’d managed to notice the natural aroma of his house, the way he might a friend’s.

A soft touch to his leg jolted him from his thoughts and Caleb looked down to see Frumpkin, pawing at him. Sniffing, heart aching, Caleb leaned down to pick up his little cat, who meowed plaintively, nuzzling and purring into Caleb’s jaw.

“Well, look at that. This is Frumpkin, then, I assume?” Molly asked, coming up behind him. “You’ve been missed by all, it seems, my darling.”

For lack of words, Caleb only nodded, nuzzling Frumpkin back, fairly squeezing the little cat, who, for once, didn’t seem to mind.

“Come on, love,” Molly whispered, putting an arm around his shoulders as he reached up with his other hand to scritch Frumpkin lazily. “You can take him with you. Let’s go sit and eat, please? Your parents are anxious too. It’ll all be okay.” Pressing a soft kiss to Caleb’s temple, Molly squeezed his shoulder gently. “They love you.”

“I know.”  

The sight of the breakfast table was one Caleb hadn’t quite realized he’d missed. Sure, he’d eaten just fine in the other plane, but this was comfortable, familiar in a way that nothing else was, and it smelled incredible.

“Wow, that looks amazing.” Molly stepped up beside him, leaning into his side to whisper. “Can you tell me what some of that is, you know, before your parent’s come in here and expect me to know it all, since I apparently speak your language just fine.”

“Well, you can use that as wiggle room, ja? Just pretend you don’t have the word for it, and you will be fine.”

Instantly, Molly pouted, and Caleb, with a snigger, relented, pointing a few things out slyly, describing them when Molly gave him a blank stare and moving on when it was clear he knew exactly what something was. After a while, Caleb noticed that Molly’s attention was straying. “What is it, Schatz?”

Molly pecked his cheek. “Nothing. Go sit, pet your cat, I’m going to help your parents.”

“But-“

“Go on.”

Caleb did as requested, biting his lip a little as he nervously stroked Frumpkin’s back. The cat was propped up on his front, nuzzling under his chin, sharp claws digging in and out of his shirt. The  _ Stämpfele  _ made him smile, even when Frumpkin pierced his skin. It was an act of love, after all, from his darling cat, and he’d missed him dearly.

Soft fragments of conversation filtered through between the rooms, but Caleb couldn’t make out anything being said. Molly came back into the room bearing a carafe of coffee and a pot of tea, which he set down with a quick smile before ducking back into the kitchen. Not too long after that, his parents came out as well, Molly following them one last time, carrying a juice carton.

The only sounds that filled the space were the gentle shift of crockery and silverware, the scrape of chairs on the hardwood floor and the occasional throat clearing. All in all, Caleb felt awkward, as though everyone in the room, Frumpkin included, knew something he didn’t.

“Well then,” Leofric said, looking around the table. “Guten Appetit.”

The silence continued as they began to pass, with minimal verbalizations, the food around the table as requested. Molly, to Caleb’s surprise, took a slick of thick, dark bread, spread with butter, and a few thin cuts of smoked salmon, laying them on his plate with a small wedge of gouda and some spinach. His thoughts must have been evident on his face, because Molly gave him quite a look back and then, rather pointedly, ignored him.

Leofric cleared his throat. “So, Caleb, Molly tells us that you’ll be staying at the Brenatto cottage for the foreseeable future?”

“Ah, em, ja, that’s the plan, Vati,” Caleb replied, busying himself with the unwrapping of a babybel’s wax shell. “I…I haven’t really had the time to consider anything beyond that.”

_ Like university _ .

He knew that he wasn’t the only one thinking it.

“Of course not, Liebschen,” his mother piped up. “You’ve only just gotten home.”

“Speaking of which, Molly says that there is…quite the story to accompany it.”

“Oh, ja, well, that’s true.” Running a hand over his mouth briefly, Caleb considered how best to begin. “So, I…” He swallowed, hard. “I don’t remember a lot after the last time I went out to the woods.”  _ Blatantly false. _ “I was in a haze, of a sort, just, existing? I do not remember how I arrived in Ireland, only that when I, uh, woke up, I was there.” Shamefaced at his lies, but without an alternative Caleb looked down to his plate. Very, very softly, he spoke the damning words. “I thought my name was Bren.”

He sensed rather than saw their nods.

“We met in Galloway,” Molly interjected, saving him without compunction. “And regardless of his name, once Caleb figured himself out, that didn’t change anything for me, or, thankfully, for him. I do love your son, Leofric, Una. I saw him and was smitten, and I made sure that he was alright and taken care of the entire time. And of course, fell for him in the process.”

“It helps that you speak German.” It was hard to know what to say, precisely, how much to say was too much, how little too little, but Molly didn’t continue after that, and neither did he. When Caleb finally looked up again, Una was crying over her lunch plate, brötchen half sliced open.

“And how did you…” Leofric waved a hand. “Come to remember?”

Darkly, Caleb chuckled. “I fell off a ladder onto the shed floor and knocked my head.”

“ _ Caleb Florian!” _ his mother’s knife clattered to the table. “We’re taking you to the doctor as soon as we are able.”

“I-“

“ _ Am morgen, verstehst du mich?” _ she interrupted, brooking no argument.

“Ja, mama,” he held up a hand, placatingly. “This was a while ago, Mama, but I will go. I didn’t even crack my head open that time. I didn’t even bleed. I just…knocked it. But ja, I will go. I didn’t listen before and I should have but-“

“But you met your Molly, is what you want to say, ja?”

Leofric’s eyes held far too much understanding for Caleb’s comfort, but he only nodded in response. “That is right. I – he makes me happy.”

“Well that’s good then.” And, without another thought on the matter, Leofric turned away from Caleb to Molly, who had just taken a bite from his bread. “So, tell us of you, since you are our new son-in-law then?”

Lifting a finger in request for a moment, Molly swallowed his bite. “Well, the only family I’ve got is Caleb, so there’s not much to say on that front,” he shrugged. “I’m very good with plants. Flowers, trees, the lot. You’ve a lovely garden, by the way. Absolutely beautiful. I’ll be looking for some sort of job in that field. I’m not entirely sure what Caleb plans, but I know that our intention is to stay here in Germany.”

“Well, that is certainly good to hear.” Una smiled, reaching her hand across the table to settle on Molly’s. “You are welcome in our family. Caleb will not be all you have left, soon enough, ja?”

Caleb watched as Molly flushed darkly. “That’s terribly kind of you to say, Una. My thanks.”

She nodded and the looked to Caleb, who felt a little like a beetle with a pin through it under her scrutiny. “What are you thinking you will do, regarding Uni? Have you called Beauregard? Will you – “

“Mutti-“

“I need some time to settle in here, and so does Caleb,” Molly interjected, coming to the rescue. “But I know he’s talked of little else since his memory returned, than of you, his close friends, and returning, eventually, to his classwork.”

Placated, Una sat back in her chair, expression softened, but said nothing. It was Leofric who smiled openly, eyes sparkling. “You have found yourself a good husband, Caleb. Keep him.”

“I plan on it.” More words wanted out, but Caleb kept them where they were for the time being. They ate for a little while in silence, and all the while he gathered his thoughts, considered how he would phrase the question. It wasn’t quite a comfortable silence, but it wasn’t stilted either, with Molly making happy, interested sounds as he tried foods he’d never had before. What ended the uncertainty was exclamation of joy as he sipped Rhabarsaft for the first time.

“It’s tart! Wow, that’s incredible. What is that?” he asked, brightly, holding the glass out in front of him.

“Ah, that is rhubarb, Schatz.”

“Really?”

“Ja.”

“You have juice made from rhubarb?” The question was followed up immediately by another long drink, leading Caleb to chuckle as he grasped Molly’s hand in his own, rubbing casually at his knuckles, over the brand new ring.

“Ja, we do.”

“I’m so glad we came here, Cay.”

From anyone else, it may have sounded insincere, but Molly’s simple joy was infectious, leaving Caleb smiling broadly, and even his mother, who had been eyes Molly carefully the entire time, despite her own genuinely kind words, managed to laugh a bit.

It was his father who reacted the most, laughing with his whole body, as he was wont to do when comfortable.

“Papa?” Caleb asked, taking the moment’s opportunity for what it was. “I was wondering if you are very busy with any commissions at the moment?”

“Oh.” Leofric wiped a laughing tear from his eye. “Well, I’m still doing alright for myself. That etsy account you set me up with has been gaining some more traction, and the pieces I sell in the Brenatto’s store do fine too. Whyever do you ask?”

Squeezing Molly’s hand, Caleb lifted it onto the table. “I was hoping you might make us…secondary rings. If you have the time, that is. We have…we have these and that’s fine, but I had always hoped that someday you might…do that…for me, I mean.”

“Oh,” Leofric’s eyes glossed over again, though this time, not from mirth. “Oh, Caleb. Of course. Of course I can do that for the both of you.”

“Danke, Papa.” Caleb looked to Molly, noticing his mild, but quickly disguised confusion. “We will have to talk some, I think, about what we might want, richtig, liebling?”

“Oh, yes. Right. “ Molly’s expression morphed into a smile. “Thank you, that’s terribly kind of you.”

“I would have it no other way.” After a moment, Leofric continued on about his work, and Caleb saw burgeoning delight on Molly’s face as he realized exactly what it was that his father-in-law did for a living, leaning in over the table, his interest in food lessened, as he picked at his meal absently, listening with great intent as Leofric described a recent project, which consisted of some intricate leather working, and another one he’d just completed that was focused on roughcut semi-precious stones.

As his father conversed  _ at _ more than  _ with _ Molly, who was simply enraptured, Caleb turned his attention to his mother, who was still taking in the interaction with a distant interest.

“Und du, Mutti? Wie geht’s?”

“Better, now that you are home,” she replied, and Caleb instantly felt his heart sink into his stomach. “Horis and Dolan are doing their best these days. They will be glad to hear that you’re back.”

A small smile found it’s way to Caleb’s features. “They are not giving you heart attacks anymore, trying to go to the bäckeri together without their canes?”

The soft look on his mother’s face made him feel just a little better. “They’re slowing down, Caleb. A lot passes in a year when you are their ages.”

“Mama, I-“

“No, Caleb.” Una’s voice rang out in a sudden still, silence, and only then did either of them realize that Leofric and Molly had ceased their own conversation, watching them instead. Her expression wavered. “It’s fine, Caleb.”

It was anything but.

Leofric’s chair pushed back noisily as he went into the little living room and turned on the stereo, the gentle waves of Enya a purposeful choice as they found their way to the table as Caleb tried not to look at his mother. Around his hand, Molly’s squeezed tightly.

“Es tut mir leid,” Una bit out. “I am just…it has been so hard, Caleb. I’m not mad at you, I am not. You could not control this, it was not your fault. And I…I am just happy you are back. I should not have said that.”

He swallowed hard and let Molly’s hand fall from his grip, and stood, walking to his mother before kneeling beside her and taking her hands in his. “I am sorry, too, for what it is worth. Genuinely sorry. Please, Mama, forgive me?”

“Oh, Caleb!” She slid from the chair and onto the ground beside him, holding him in her arms, rocking back and forth as she cried. “Of course, of course, liebe, I forgive you, if you can forgive me?” 

“Of course, Mama, always. Always. ”Eventually, from the corner of his eye, Caleb saw Molly leave the room too, and he was left alone with his mother, love and guilt warring within his chest all the while. 

 


	12. 10.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No art yet, but still thank you to @pandamenope for everything. 
> 
> The biggest of thanks to @senor_sparklefingers for the beta!
> 
> The Penultimate chapter!

10.

“If you look the right way, you can see that the whole world is a garden.”

~ Frances Hodgson Burnett,  _ The Secret Garden _

“Dreams don't work unless you take action. The surest way to make your dreams come true is to live them.” 

~ Roy T. Bennett

Caleb had no doubt, as he rousted to the booming sound of music outside and the unnecessary revving of an engine, that Beau was finally arrived. Rolling onto his back, he strained his ears to catch something, if only just the beat, recognizing it instantly for one of Beau’s favourite tracks from the line about the singer burying his pet goldfish and blowing up his house. Beside him, Molly groaned and pulled the pillow ever more firmly over his head.

“How  _ early _ is it?” he groused, voice muted beneath fabric.

“Not that early, liebe.” Despite the fact that the bedside clock read half-eleven, already, Caleb sat up blearily, the covers pooling around his waist. “Get dressed. Beauregard will barf if she see you naked, and then I will make you clean it up.”

All that came by way of reply was another long groan. “Fine, but clothes are still an unnecessary confinement. Even the pretty ones.”

“Ja, ja, ich weiß’. Now,” Caleb leaned over Molly, and pressed a kiss above his heart. “Get up. We have a big day today.”

No sooner had he said it then there was a loud banging at the door.

“Ein moment!” he called, slipping from the bed to pull on his jeans and a sweater over his head, mussing his hair even worse than before. A quick glance back and Molly showed that he’d rolled over in lieu of sitting up, pushing himself to sitting instead, shoulders like a great cat. Caleb only smirked, rolling his eyes as he left the room.

Though the banging had ceased, a wave of mild trepidation overcame him at the thought of facing Beau for the first time in a year. Taking a deep breath, he pulled open the door to see Beau, not so very different than the last time they were together, her arms crossed, her expression unimpressed as she looked him over.

“Beauregard, I-“

Caleb barely saw it as she moved. Suddenly, arms were flung around him, tightly, a hand curled into a fist resting at the back of his neck. Through gritted teeth Beau spoke. “Just shut up and let me hug you, you asshat. Don’t say anything. Don’t ruin this.”

Smiling bemusedly, Caleb indulged her, patting her back gently, and silently, until he pulled away. Though he could have sworn he had heard sniffling, when he looked her in the face, there wasn’t a trace of tears. “Guten tag, Beau.”

“Don’t give me the niceties, asshole! You were gone for a whole fucking year!”

Caleb winced as her fist connected - rather gently, considering - with his shoulder, but didn’t rub the spot, waiting instead for Beau to inevitably continue.

“And now you’re fucking  _ married? _ ”

“Ah, ja, about that…” A hand slid onto his shoulder, cutting him off, and suddenly, a warm body pressed up against his back.   

“Hello there! I’m Mollymauk, Molly to my friends.”

Beau’s eyes flickered to the space just beyond Caleb’s shoulder, and then down, to where he felt the sneaky advance of Molly’s hand as it curled around his waist possessively, and her eyebrows raised just a hair.

“Mollymauk?” she repeated, glancing back to Caleb. “ _ That _ Mollymauk?”

A purring sound of satisfaction reached Caleb’s ears. “Oh, so you talked about me to Beau, too?”

Caleb rolled his eyes again and grabbed Molly’s hand in his own, twisting out of his grip. “Come in, Beauregard, and I will tell you everything. I promise. You are owed that much.”

“Yeah.” She laughed a bit. “I’m owed  _ way _ more than that. Dude. A year? A freaking  _ year _ .” Even as she bitched at him, she shouldered her way into the house, Caleb pulling the door shut behind her, trying to ignore how Molly was nuzzling at his neck.

Inside the little house, Beau was busy making herself comfortable, as always. Caleb felt a spark of emotion, something more or less like endearment, constricted his heart. Oh, how he had  _ missed _ her. Missed them all. The previous night’s dinner with his parents at the forefront of his mind, Caleb was only glad that he’d actually be able to tell Beau the truth.

  Well…He blushed, just thinking about it. Parts of it, at least.

Beau had her feet up on the table, reclining in the chair, which she had tilted back to two legs. Molly, Caleb noticed, was eyeing her set up with a curious and dangerous light in his eyes. As he went to sit, Caleb beat him to the punch.

“Don’t even think about it. You are still working on your balance and you will fall and then you will regret it.”

“What?!” Molly cried, very deliberately sitting appropriately as he did. “I’m not doing anything!”

“Right. Sure.” Caleb turned on Beau as he pulled out his own chair. “You are a bad influence, Beauregard.”

“Who, me?” Beau scoffed. “You’re the bad influence. I don’t know how you can call yourself a legitimate gay, you always sit like a Victorian dude who has never seen a comfortable chair in his life. I’m a good influence. Gotta teach your  _ husband _ all the best parts of living in a twenty-first century world. Like all the  _ fun _ ways to sit in chairs, since you’re a stick in the mud, he’d never figure it out otherwise.”

“Hey, hey, give me some credit where it’s due!” Molly called, indignantly, but with a smile. “I may not remember having sat in a chair until I got here, but I’d have come up with it eventually!”

Beau’s raised brow jumped another centimeter higher. “That so?”

“Oh, definitely.”

Caleb hung his head, trying not to laugh. “Well, Beau, meet Molly, Molly, meet Beau.”

“Met.” Beau replied. “Now, I need and explanation of where the fuck you’ve been, like, stat. You’re  _ so  _ far behind on your rent it isn’t even funny.”

Molly must have caught on to Beau’s nature, because he snorted at her comment. “Caleb was with me. In my realm,” he replied. “I’m sorry about your rent… whatever that is, but, ah, just don’t beat it out of him, please? He’s very pretty as he is and doesn’t require any alteration, thanks much.”

The look that Beau gave Caleb was so intensely hilarious that he could no longer stifle his laughter, and soon enough, Beau was laughing along with him, while Molly sat staring quizzically. There was a pause, just a momentary one, where they once again locked eyes before breaking down again, Beau snorting once or twice in the process, which only enhanced Caleb’s own mirth.

Eventually, they calmed down enough to catch their breaths. “Welcome back, Caleb.”

“Danke, Beau.” Caleb said, sobering. “Really. I am sorry for how things came out though. It wasn’t intentional. I got stuck. I didn’t realize the portal would close when it did. Really, Molly has reminded me time and again that I was working on such little information that I couldn’t have known, but believe you me, I have…it hasn’t been easy.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I don’t imagine it has. Sorry man, about your parents, I mean. What’d you end up saying anyways?”

As Caleb explained to Beau about their cover story, Molly’s hand found his knee, under the table, a reassuring pressure, a grounding sensation. Every once in a while, Molly interjected something, but mostly, he left it to Caleb to explain.

When he was done, Beau grew quiet. “That’s some seriously heavy shit.” Her brow furrowed. “Wait, so, how did you miss the portal though? Why didn’t you just like, go get him and then go back through?”

Caleb's face turned instantly beet red and Molly snickered as Beau instantly made the connection.

“Woah there, Widogast. Who knew you’d be such a dog?!” She tapped his arm playfully, in the same place as before, and he held back a slight, mocking wince. “No, but seriously, good for you. Action on campus has been  _ nil _ and I’m so glad I’ve got my wingman back. Whatever you decide to do, I’m sticking around here at least a little bit.” She reached back to scratch at her head awkwardly. “While you were, ah, gone, Veth and I started talking and kind of got to know one another, so I promised her I’d stick around to visit for a while during break and well, now you’re back, so it all works out, I guess.”

“Oh.” Caleb blinked. “I am glad to hear that, about Veth, I mean. Really. That’s…that’s good.”

“Yeah, we bonded over music, which like, BIG surprise, I mean, she’s like, married, you know? And a  _ mom _ now, holy shit! But dude likes Peter Fox, so she’s cool in my book.” Beau shrugged and then, suddenly, leaned the chair forward, falling back to all four legs, focusing all her intent on Molly. “So. You married my man, Caleb, here.”

“Yes,” Molly replied imperiously, with a flourish of his head, curls bouncing distractingly, so that Caleb had to blink himself back to concentrating on the conversation at hand.

“You hurt him, I’ll send you back to the plane you came from and tell him I killed you, got it?” Her voice brokered no room for argument. “Because that way, it’ll hurt you more. Like a dull spoon to your heart, instead of a knife.”

“That is extremely specific and graphically descriptive and I’m very here for that. It’s positively wicked.” He grinned, teeth gleaming, and for half a second, Caleb could have sworn that he still had his fangs. “I think you and I are set to be great friends. After all, we have at least one thing in common.”

“Oh, what’s that?” Beau asked, rising to his subtle challenge.

Curiously, Caleb waited to see what Molly would say.

It wasn’t what he expected.

“We’re both assholes.”

Beau threw back her head and laughed as Caleb spluttered, shocked.

“Oh man, Caleb, don’t  _ ever _ break up with this guy. I like him already.”

It was strange to see, just as much as the day before, and the night before that, Molly colliding with all of the varying facets of his life, and they colliding with one another as the result of…everything. In truth, he felt a bit like crying, oddly, as his heart pulled its missing pieces back together, filling in as one. His lips twitched in a bittersweet smile as he thought back, inevitably, to his mother the night before, and recalled that he could never tell his parents the truth, and that wedge would always exist in his own heart, tainting their relationship.

Molly’s hand found his knee again, which was bouncing rapidly, and stilled it with the gentle rubbing on his thumb.

“Caleb, beloved. Beau said about visiting Veth? Getting some lunch and whatnot? What do you think?”

Recomposed, Caleb slid his own hand over Molly’s and squeezed. “I think it is a good idea. And,” he added. “And, later, when I have access to my money again, we can take you shopping, so that I can get my wardrobe back.” From his peripherals, he saw that Beau made a face. Molly rolled his eyes and sighed.

“If you insist.”

Beau slapped the table and then stood. “Cool. I’m starving because I’ve been driving for like, ever, so let’s get the show on the road.”

~

Veth was ecstatic as they traipsed through town, though where she was taking them, Caleb wasn’t entirely sure. Beau walked idly, taking casual glances at the town, while Molly remained positively enraptured in everything that was happening. The entire time, Caleb fed him answers to what things were, their hands tightly linked as they walked. Once in a while, Caleb got a surprised wave, but no one came over to bother them, much to his relief.

It would get around town, eventually, he knew. Especially since his parents had called in his return to the police the night before. They’d gotten the ball rolling on his accounts and other things, but it would still take time. And then, there was always the matter of school to consider still. So much had to happen that it was overwhelming, and more pressing than anything was the matter of  _ Molly’s _ paperwork. His parents had given him some cash, just to last for essentials, before reassuring him that they’d set him up with a temporary card on their account, so he could handle their living expenses, and it wasn’t just ‘left to Molly’, nevermind that they didn’t know that Molly had never  _ heard _ of a bank before, much less recalled the actual need for money to survive. Eventually, he would be called to account for Molly’s existence somehow, and though he’d thought about it many, many times over the past year’s stagnation in the Feywild, he’d not come to any real answer.

Just thinking about it made Caleb nervous, all the terrible things he could come up with, informed from fiction books and television shows, whirled through his brain. What people might  _ do _ if they discovered Molly’s real origins.

Molly, on the other hand, was too overwhelmed, not to mention blissfully ignorant, of the source of Caleb’s current worries.

After a few minutes, Veth stopped at a small house and turned, with a smile. “I did a lot of thinking, last night, and I realized that you  _ just _ might need to meet Jester.” Simultaneously, Caleb and Beau made confused faces. “Not that her name is Jester, we just call her that. Jessie. Her name is Jessie. Actually, Caleb, you’ve met her, a long time ago! But you probably don’t remember her. Anyways, I think you'll find that not only is she really great, but she can probably help you out with  _ that _ one.” Veth jabbed a finger in Molly’s direction. “You know, considering that he doesn’t exist as far as Earth is concerned.” At Caleb’s look of alarm, and Molly’s confusion, Veth continued. “Don’t worry, she’s very discrete, and her hubby is fantastic, too.”

Beau smiled and patted Veth on the shoulder. “Oh Caleb,” she said, shaking her head. “What would you do without us?”

They started forward, and Caleb shot after them, pulling a surprised Molly along behind him. “Veth! Veth!  _ Nott! _ Bitte, I do not think-“

“Don’t worry, Cay, I didn’t tell her where he’s from. Just that I had a friend who was in need of some...discrete help. Trust me on this, please?”

She looked pleadingly up at him from her diminutive height and he back down on her, feeling once more the absolute comfort of her familiar presence.

“Ja. Okay.”

The buzzer rang and a patter of feet sounded behind the door before a short, boisterous looking lady with plump, rosy cheeks and a great big smile, opened the door, her blue hair wild about her face.

“Oh my  _ Gosh!  _ Veth!!!!” Jester – for it must have been Jester – squealed. “Hello! Come in! Bring all of your friends!” She stood aside, allowing them all to file inside, Molly not letting go of Caleb’s hand, though he did hang back enough for Caleb to go through the door first. A part of Caleb wondered if that element of clinginess was how Molly’s nervousness at his new home was manifesting, or if he was attempting to comfort Caleb, or both. Regardless, Caleb no attempt to pull away either.

Jester ushered them to sit all together on the couch, Molly and Caleb ending up squished between Veth and Beau, who instantly perched herself on the arm of the couch.

Clapping a little as she smiled to see them all seated there, she turned towards the stairs and bellowed. “FJORD!!! GUESTS” she called out in English. A vague, muffled reply came, which was apparently satisfactory, for she seated herself on the smaller loveseat. “He’ll be down in a minute.”

The house was a wild eclectic storm of art of all sorts, but there was a significant leaning towards a nautical, maritime theme, with a framed selection of sailor’s knots hanging immediately beside an abstract painting of something that looked…vaguely erotic to Caleb’s rather mundane sensibilities. Considering Molly’s snicker when he caught a glimpse in the same direction, he felt it rather confirmed.

“Wait a minute!” Jester said, drawing back his attention, almost more because he was still trying to place her accent than anything else. “Holy cow, do I know you?”

“Me?”

“Yeah, you! Weren’t you like, at school with us or something? Wait! Oh! Oh my  _ God _ , you’re Caleb! We went to school together! And you’re also missing, right? Well, I mean, not any more,  _ obviously _ , but you were! People thought you were dead!”

Caleb opened his mouth to reply, except that at that moment, a man came down the old, creaking stairs.

“Jes? What’s goin-oh. Wow. Hi. Houseful of guests…” The man, Fjord, her ‘hubby’ apparently, was quite tall, though not quite as muscled as Caleb had anticipated considering his deep, southern American tonalities. His dark skin was contrasted by lighter patches of vitiligo around his mouth and neck, and the hand that clasped the bannister. His hair, dark but for the silver streak through the front, was slicked back, the sides shaved, and he carried himself, generally, in the sort of stiff way that Caleb recalled about the photos of his grandfather working the old farm. “Oh. Hey there, Veth.”

“Hey Fjord. Sorry to surprise you with all of this,” Veth said, a bit meek. “This is Caleb, you’ve heard about him from me before. And this is Beau, whom I’ve definitely mentioned. And this is Molly. Caleb’s husband.”

“Nice ta meet ya. I’m Fjord.” Jester patted the seat next to her, and he came to sit at her beckoning as Veth, once more, cleared her throat.

“So, Jessie, I was hoping that you could, well…help Caleb and Molly with a… _ thing _ . You know.”

Jester and Fjord looked at one another and then back at Veth. “Like, a  _ thing _ thing?”

“Yeah…”

Caleb gave up. “Alright, what is this about?”

“You need documentation and Jester can get it for you.” Veth shrugged. “Like I said, very discrete.”

Rapidly, Jester was nodding, an earnest look on her face. “I am, like, really discrete. I can’t be anything else, really, you know, because of how I had to leave  _ Česko. _ ”

“Ah, The Czech Republic, I thought I recognized your accent.”

“So, yeah,” Jester continued. “I can make any documents you need! I’m really good at that, you know, which is why I had to leave home anyways, but that’s not so bad because then I met Fjord in Mallorca, and we fell in  _ love  _ and got  _ married _ and now we are here! So, there is no judgement in this house! And I swear to  _ God _ that you won’t hear me say  _ anything _ about this outside of this house, okay?!” Her hands waved a bit in front of her chest, as if crossing her heart in promise.

Leaning forward, Molly smiled, and Caleb felt suddenly nervous; seeing Molly interact with other people was…very different. “Well, darling,” he started. “Guess where I’m from.”

“ _ Oh _ .” Jester’s eyes grew quite large. “I see. Well, I haven’t ever dealt with…the IRA before…are you, ah…, or are you, well, you know…”

“He is here now and that is what is important.” Caleb interjected, picking up the thread, beaming inwardly at how flawlessly Molly had managed to allow Jester to come to her own conclusions, especially about things for which he had no concept. It wasn’t as though Molly knew what the IRA was. Caleb hadn’t come to that idea before, but it would certainly do the job. “My husband is in need of all new documentation. We have nothing for him at present.”

“So,” Jester twirled a strand of her hair. “Like, birth records and a new passport and stuff? I can plant a school record and even give you grades! Anything like that! I can put you in pictures in old newspapers, and mention your name and stuff, really build a trail for you if you think you need it.”

“Ah…” Molly looked questioningly up at Caleb.

“I don’t think that much will be necessary. Just the basics, if you will, bitte. We have no intention of returning to Ireland, obviously.”

“Oh!” She clapped her hands, whirling on Fjord. “Isn’t this so exciting! I haven’t done anything like this in months!”

“Oh, and one more thing.” Caleb took Molly’s hand back up in his own, playing with the ring there. “We are in need of a new marriage certificate.”

Jester’s extremely blue eyes grew very wide, but her smile was small and warm. “I would be happy to do that for you. And, if you ever want a renewal ceremony, now you know someone who can perform it,  _ and _ make the paperwork at the same time!”

“That’s terribly thoughtful of you, Jester,” Molly said, before lifting Caleb’s hand to his lips for a kiss.

“Aw, you are sweet! But we can get started right away! The sooner the better! So just,” She dropped her brow and deepened her voice dramatically. “Come to my cellar of doom and gloom so I can take pictures of you!”

Only shrugging when Molly looked to him for guidance, Caleb watched as, for the first time since their arrival, Molly passed truly beyond his sight, down the hall and into a separate room. That left Beau, Veth, and Caleb, sitting alone across from an incredibly awkward Fjord.

He sucked his lower lip into his mouth and nodded a little at nothing. Beau pushed are out her mouth like a horse and Veth, completely oblivious, sat with a smile on her face, phone out, as she texted back and forth with her husband, pictures of their son dotting the conversation.

“So,” Fjord said, finally. “Welcome back. I ah, don’t forget a face. Seen yours around town plenty enough, though on paper and not in person, if you get my drift.”

Caleb inhaled heavily through gritted teeth. “Ja, the drift is gotten. Thank you, it is good to be home.”

“Sorry.” Fjord scratched at the back of his neck. “I don’t really speak that much German yet. I’m working on it, though.”

“That is fine.”

More silence.

Fjord cleared his throat.

“God this is unbearable!” Beau finally broke, throwing herself backwards into the empty space on the couch, legs still hanging over the armrest. “Where you from, dude?”

“Oh, well, I’m from – “

“Tell the truth, Fjord,” Veth said without looking up from her phone. “These are my friends.”

Wincing, Fjord sighed. “I’m not from the US, though I lived there for a very long time. I was born in the UK and when I moved to the States, I lived in Texas.”

“All the nautical shit you, or is that Jester’s?”

“Ah no, that’s me. I was in the Coast Guard.”

Beau made a sound of generic approval. “Cool, cool.”

“And you?” he threw back at her, eventually.

“Oh, ah, shit. I’m from California. Parents own a vineyard in Napa. They’re assholes. You know how it is.”

Fjord made a face, but it wasn’t one of commiseration and Caleb got the feeling that Beau had unintentionally stumbled on a sore point, but before Caleb had an opportunity to say anything, Fjord smiled and turned to Caleb.

“So, Veth here’s told me what you were studying at Uni. If you’re looking for a job now that you’re back from, uh, Ireland? If you’re looking for a job, I’m working at Störtebeker. We could always use an archivist there.”

“I, oh – “Caleb sat back heavily into the couch. “To be honest, I have not really determined what I am going to do yet. I do not have my degree, you know. I am still considering returning to school. But I thank you, greatly, for the offer. I will seriously consider it. Right now, as I am sure you can surmise, Mollymauk and myself are in dire straights on that front. It was…not my intention to be away for so long without notice.” Watching carefully, Caleb followed the expression on Fjord’s face. “I have long been someone who suffered memory problems, and this was perhaps the worst of my mishaps.”

“Well shit.” Fjord’s brow furrowed. “Like a fugue?”

“Ah, yes, that is the appropriate term. I forgot who I was.”

“Well, I’m glad that you managed to find your way home.”

Veth’s hand came over Caleb’s forearm. “So are we.”

A sound came from around the corner and they all turned to see Molly and Jester, speaking jovially with one another, back up from the cellar.

“Well, he’s all set for now! I’ll be sure to get you the documents as soon as they’re done!” Jester settled herself back down next to Fjord. “I think we are going to be great friends. When you come back, I’m going to help Molly dye his hair!”

Molly grinned and practically bounded over to the couch, but took Veth’s hand instead of Caleb’s. “Thank you, dear, for helping us.”

“Not a problem, Molly. You’re married to Caleb, that makes you family.”

The smile Molly gave was a soft one, not quite as sharp as his usual, but still crinkling his eyes in the process. “Veth, my dear, thank you.”

~

A few days later, Caleb had his bank card, and he and Molly were headed back into town to pick up some necessities and a bit more. Beau had come with them, on the condition that they call her when the ‘shopping spree’ was over, so they could all get lunch. She’d walked off in a random direction after they arrived, content to explore.

Although Molly was still anti-clothes as a general rule, he’d spent a little more time with Jester (she’d called him back for some assistance on his paperwork, as well as for the opportunity to dye his hair, which was now a deep, rich violet with a few lighter lilac streaks) and her influence appeared to have rubbed off, if only a little.

Jester, as evidenced by most of the décor in the house, was fond of colour. Though her hair was a testament to blue being one of her favourites, she wasn’t quite as dedicated to the aesthetic of it as Beauregard was, ironically, considering she was probably the one out of them all, aside from Veth, who cared the least about her clothes; as long as it was comfortable, wicked, and sleeveless (and of course, preferably blue), Beau was happy. Jester was a bit more complicated than that.

“She asked me why it was exactly that we have the ‘same style’ or whatever, and then I told her that I wasn’t able to bring anything with me, really, and that I’ve been wearing your clothes until you got your card. So of course, after she got done gushing about how cute it was that I was wearing your clothes every day, she was all over me about going shopping, but I told her I wasn’t sure when you’d be ah…flush?...again,” Molly chattered happily as they walked, hands clasped, arms swinging side by side. “All of these new terms. Pretty interesting. Anyways, she’s got a very particular idea about style and I’m just not sure it’ll be my thing, you know, since clothes really  _ are _ a requirement, apparently. But she showed me some of her photography that she’s done, and there are definitely clothes that are – no offense beloved – far more fascinating than yours. And more colourful.”

Though Caleb chuckled, Molly paused their combined momentum, suddenly whirling on Caleb and stopping him short. “Not that I don’t love your clothes, dear. They’re just not…well…very  _ me. _ ”

“No, Molly, they are not.”

But some spark within Caleb reminded him that, ultimately, he didn’t mind seeing his husband in his clothes.

Not one bit.

“But anyways, after we’re through with this shopping nonsense, we’re going to go about town and maybe find me a job, yeah?”

Caleb shook his head at Molly continued stubbornness. “Ja, we will do that. Absolutely. So,” he started. “Here is a store,” he said, pointing to a little boutique. Should we go in?”

Looking in through the display windows, Molly shrugged, but a little of it, Caleb could tell was forced ambivalence. Molly was  _ absolutely _ interested, despite all the protest.

“Yes, alright. I guess.”

The boutique only had a little sign, particularly unobtrusive, which read  _ Blühenhain  _ in small, carved script, but the rest of the place on the exterior was fairly basic as far as buildings went. As they pushed open the door, however, a soft jingle from a set of windchimes greeted them. It seemed homemade, with rustic metal tubes and seaglass and shells on twine, which turned out generally to be a good indicator for the ambiance that met them as they stepped in. A latin sounding song was playing so softly it was almost pointless and a waft of incense – real nag champa, if Caleb wasn’t mistaken – encompassed them in the subtly darkened, yet unimposing interior, the walls of which were lined with hanging clothes, dyed in interesting colours and embroidered along the seams and in other myriad patterns. As Caleb looked up, he saw that the ceiling beams were exposed, and potted plants, some flowering, some not, were lined up the length of the space. And there, at the other side of the store, was a wooden ladder, and a tall, lanky man, of a pale complexion close enough to exceed Caleb’s own, with long, vibrantly, pastel-pink hair, a sunflower blossom tucked behind one ear.

“Oh, hey,” the proprietor looked down at the sound of the chimes. “Can I help you?”

“Hallo!” Caleb called back. “We are just looking at some clothes. Molly here is…a bit picky.”

“Hey!” Molly retorted. “Well…it’s not untrue.” But his eyes had already drifted to the variety of clothes on the racks. They weren’t clothes that one would find in any commercial store, but it seemed that every even moderately sized town had one hole-in-the-wall shop offering the same bohemian-chic style that the  _ Blühenhain _ seemed to carry. The pants were billowing and flowy, the shirts open far down the chest, only closing with a tie at the collar, and there was a smattering of stone and metal jewelry that was displayed in a case by the register. As taken as Molly seemed, his wide eyes scanning the wares, Caleb knew he would still be making a trip to the nearest H&M.

“Why don’t you go look around, Schatz, see if there is anything you like.”

“Other than all the plants?” Molly raised a brow haughtily, despite the rapt attention with which he had run his gaze over the interior. “We’ll see.”

The tall proprietor – he had to be at least two meters – made his way casually down the ladder, his own shirt a gauzy, billowing creation with one long sleeve and the other short, small designs embroidered in with teal thread. He pushed aside the curtain of pink hair, revealing that the other side was shaved close to the scalp, and smiled genially.

“I’m Caduceus Clay, of the Clays. Nice to meet you.” He stuck out a long, fine boned hand, and they shook.

“I am Caleb, this is Molly.”

“Nice to meet you both.” It was then that Caleb noticed the little watering can in his other hand. “I’ve just got to fill this back up so I can give the plants a good long drink, but I’ll be right back. Let me know if you need anything. Dressing rooms are on the left in the back.”

Caduceus was a new face, but his affable nature endeared him to Caleb almost automatically. In fact, it was far easier seeing someone who didn’t already know him. It meant there was no need for the automatic seize of his chest when he considered that he had to lie to someone  _ again _ .

There was no need to lie to Herr Clay.

The soft  _ schinkt _ of hangers sliding along metal poles fell softly to Caleb’s ears as he took a seat on a small, refurbished divan to watch Molly make his choices. Pulling the glasses off his face, Caleb rubbed at the bridge of his nose before replacing them, only to see Molly waiting for him, holding up a loose flowing shirt in a similar fabric to his mantle.

“I like this,” Molly said, predictably.

“Of course you do.” Regardless, the smile Caleb gave him in return was genuine.

Molly hung it over his arm and continued looking, humming a tune aimlessly over the soft music playing in the shop. From his vantage point, Caleb admired his husband as he searched through the clothes, occasionally stepping back to pull things out and look at them more closely. For a while, nothing else seemed to catch his eye. And then, quite suddenly, he glanced over his shoulder.

“Are you watching me?” he asked, a laugh in his tone.

“Ja,” came the shameless reply.

“Are you watching my ass?”

Caleb smirked, lowering his gaze. “Only a little.”

“Ha, ha. Funny.” He turned back to the clothes. “This is harder than I expected it to be,” he admitted after a little while longer. “Can you help?”

That time, Caleb laughed a full-bodied laugh. “If I pull something out, you will wrinkle your nose at it. Just pull anything that speaks to you, ja? And if you hate it, it doesn’t matter, because we can just put it back. Now is not the time to be particularly discerning, Liebchen.”

After that, Molly’s approach changed. Where he’d chosen one item over the course of the several minutes he’d been in the store, in several seconds, he’d backtracked, throwing multiple things haphazardly over his arm until he had a pile that reached his shoulder.

Around the same time, Caduceus came back into the store proper. “You aiming to try those on?”

“Yes, I think.”

Caduceus lead him to the back, but all the while, Molly kept throwing glances over his shoulder back at Caleb.

“Do you want me to go in with you?” he asked, to which Molly only responded with a nod.

Caduceus held aside the curtain long enough for Molly to shuffle his way into the small room, pile of clothes and all, and then waited for Caleb to catch up. As soon as he was gone and they were along, Molly toed off the sandals and shucked his grey sweater and the darkwash jeans. Caleb leaned up against the wall, taking the clothes and folding them as Molly handed them off, settling them on the bench.

Molly snorted when he noticed what Caleb was doing, but pulled the first shirt – the one that reminded Caleb of the mantel, from the hanger and stuck his head and arms through. The collar was split almost down to the center of his chest.

Turning to the mirror, he twisted, appreciating his own form and shapely legs, before glancing up to meet Caleb’s eyes through the mirror. “I like it.”

“Of course you do. You should pair some bottoms with it, so that you can get the full effect. Here,” Caleb pulled one pair of billowing pants from the hanger. “Try these with it.”

And, so, for at least twenty minutes, Molly interchanging items, making piles, asking Caleb to run in and out and gather him things in different colours and styles, switching them out for things he hadn’t cared for.

“What do you think?” He asked as Caleb ducked back into the changing room. The pants, made from a stiffer, more constructed fabric from a majority of the others, were a deep shade of maroon and came to just above his ankle where they clung tight to his leg, widening higher up though still relatively fitted, especially at his hips. The shirt was identical in style to the first, though it was a shade of lilac that reminded Caleb intimately of his former skin tone. Embroidered along the collar were little red flowers and twirling dark green thorns.

“Very becoming, mein Schatz. But how do you feel? That is what is important.”

His husband gave him a wide grin. “I feel excellent.”

“Are you ready then, or is there anything else you liked, for now?”

“No,” Molly shook his head. “I’ve got everything I need for now, but you’ll…we’ll go to another store, too, won’t we?” he asked as he took off the outfit, replacing it with Caleb’s clothes.

“Ja, of course, Molly. There are other things you will need that you cannot get here.”

Caleb took the items from Molly which had founded the keep pile, which included several shirts of a similar type as well as a few pairs of the structured pants in different colours, and a couple of a baggier sort, also embroidered, two vests which closed with leather and wooden ties. Molly took the rest, putting them back where they belonged so Caleb could pay. At the check-out, Herr Clay was busy spritzing the leaves of a houseplant gingerly.

“Oh, hey, you’re back. You ready to check out?”

“Ja, danke.”

“You guys from around here?” Caduceus asked as he ran through the various tags.

“Ah, ja.”

“I’m new. Just getting to know folks. Haven’t seen you around before.”

“Oh.” Caleb scratched his head. “Ja, we were out of town on our honeymoon.”

“Oh, well congratulations!” Caduceus’ excited voice was almost the exact same timbre as his regular voice, but it was a nice, low rumble and Caleb felt comfortable in his presence. “That’s real nice. Yeah. Real nice. You have a good day, alright?”

“We most certainly will, thanks,” Molly said, leaning over Caleb’s shoulder, his arm flung around his neck, hand coming to rest over his heart. “And thank you, beloved, for the clothes.”

The kiss that pressed to his cheek warmed Caleb down to the toes. “My pleasure, liebe. My pleasure.”

Outside the store, Caleb stood by the car door while Molly changed his clothes again, back to his new favoured combination of the maroon and purple. When he was finished, he slipped back into his sandals and back out the door.

“Alright! And now to find somewhere I can work with plants, yeah?”

Caleb put his hand at the back of Molly’s head, fingers tangling in his hair, and pulled him in, their foreheads touching momentarily. “You miss your home. I am sorry.”

But Molly shook his head. “The wild world is all around me, even now, and you, Caleb, you are my home. Do I miss it?” A sad smile crossed his face, but he pulled aside, and pointed out to the coast. “I’ve never been able to see that before. And this, too,” he turned Caleb’s face to his once more. “You are here, Caleb. I can go anywhere, anytime, and see the woods. But you  _ belong _ here, and I would never take you away from your family. This is a better life, Caleb, and if I had ever asked you to stay, I would be the most selfish creature across the worlds, and unworthy of your devotion.”

Sometimes, in the days since they’d left, Caleb had been almost able to forget that Molly wasn’t always human, though the lack of purple across the general canvas of his body was still occasionally disarming. But his language, the way he spoke, the cadence and the temper…sometimes, it threw the separation of their origins into sharp relief.

“Good Gott, you say the most beautiful things, Molly. How do you say such beautiful things?”

Molly’s hand on his cheek stroked down deftly over the thin smattering of beard that was growing out from the last time he’d shaved. “I have the best inspiration right in front of me.”

Too moved to say anything else, Caleb ducked into Molly’s shoulder and let his husband’s arms come around him for a moment.

“You alright?” Molly asked.

“Ja.”

“Caleb, darling…”

He didn’t want to look up, didn’t want to move, but Molly’s tone beckoned him. He waited.

“Caleb, I know you have a lot on your mind and that this hasn’t been exactly easy for you either. It’s been a big change for both of us, but you’ve gone through so much more than I since we reunited in this life. It’s okay to need time. It’s okay to not be okay.”

“Ich liebe dich.” He mumbled into Molly’s hair. “Danke, liebe, danke.”

“We should talk more about this at home, I think,” Molly said as he petted at Caleb’s head. “It’s bothering you, so we need to talk about it.”

Somehow, despite the wild circumstances, Molly had always been the most practical of the two of them when it came down to the harder things. Whenever Caleb had presented a truth, however hard, about their situation, he’d taken to it, accepted it, adapted around it. Maybe it was because anything was better than the life he had lived. Maybe it was because he still had little by way of understanding or expectations of Caleb’s world. Whatever it was, he approached the issues Caleb foresaw with an almost unbelievable level of calmness, when Caleb had only immeasurable amounts of worry, and more than his share of guilt, as the situation called for it. Standing there, on the side of the street, Molly holding him so tightly, Caleb allowed himself to drift for a moment, supported as he was, without the worry that Molly would step away while he did.

Molly would never let him fall.

“There now,” Molly murmured after a moment. “Let’s get out into the world, shall we? This’ll save till later. One thing at a time, beloved.”

“Ja, you are right.” Caleb lifted his head, but as he did, Molly caught his lips for a kiss, chaste though tender. His eyes, so very light and shining, that piece of his physical form that recalled his nymphish heritage, mysterious and near illusory, bore into Caleb as if they could see through to his soul. And then, his lips twitched with curious mischief and Caleb barely had a moment to steady himself before Molly moved. A butterfly’s touch of a kiss landed on his nose in the same moment that Molly took his hand, before turning and darting off down the hill, pulling Caleb stumbling along with him at breakneck pace.

Their hands were disentangled by the time they reached the bottom of the hill, panting and bent with the effort, but Molly’s smile was bright and wide with exhilaration. Not a few people were staring at them.

“That was fun!” he said, running his fingers through his hair. Caleb only nodded in agreement, still catching his breath. “Oh hey, look! Plants!”

Before Caleb had a chance to reply, Molly had stepped inside the little store, over which the sign that hung read only  _ Blumengeschäft _ . Music was playing in this store as well, a little louder than Herr Clay’s, and certainly less soothing, which was ironic considering the place was absolutely covered over in houseplants and cut, stem flowers. It seemed the sort of place where a happy little tune or some classical music ought to be playing, as opposed to the folk metal that filled the space, that is, until Caleb saw the woman who stood behind the counter. She was tall, though Caleb suspected she simply  _ seemed _ taller than she really was, for her presence alone was intimidating. While the store around her was exceedingly colourful, it was as though the flowers had leached every ounce of colour from her, at her expense. Her clothes were monochromatic and she was pale too, much like Herr Clay. The thick dark hair that topped her head was worn in numerous braids that ended in white tips, and were tied through with dark blue ribbons and silver beads.

Molly was stopped a little ways in, and Caleb came up behind him.

“That woman has an aesthetic. It’s  _ magnificent _ ,” Molly whispered to Caleb behind him. “I want to work here.”

Shaking his head, Caleb stifled a laugh. “I am sure you do. But she may not be hiring, you know.”

Raising an eyebrow as if in challenge, Molly swanned up to the front desk. “Hello!”

“Hallo,” came the quiet response.

“You have a very lovely store!” he said, holding his arms out. “I see three varieties of ivy alone! Impressive! And more orchids than I can count! Carnations, roses, all the types of lilies! I especially love the tiger lillies. Gorgeous! Daisies and succulents and I’m  _ pretty sure _ that’s an ornamental strawberry. Oh, and irises! The purple ones are my favourite. Wait-“ He stopped and stepped to the side. “ _ Black _ orchids. Wow...” It was perhaps the most sincere thing to come out of his mouth, and it stopped him dead in his tracks.

“You really like flowers?” The woman asked, curiously.

“I love them. All of them. Even the lace-leafed philodendron,” he said, pointing.

“I am Yasha Nydoorin. This is my shop. I am guessing you don’t really need any help.”

“I, well, no, not really.” Suddenly, Molly’s swagger waned. “Not with plants at least.”

Caleb snuck a glance as Yasha took Molly in, vibrant and excitable as he’d been, soothed a little in the moment. There was a most curious look on her face that didn’t wane and a smile spread across her lipstick darkened mouth. “You are very knowledgeable. I haven’t talked to anyone who knew plants so well in a very long time.”

And that was that, Molly and Yasha began to chatter amiably with one another, leaving Caleb to wander about the little store by himself. He knew almost none of the names for the house plants, and was much better with the flowers, but they were all gorgeous plants in their own right, well cared for and elegantly arranged, as with immense dedication and delicate hands.

“Caleb?” Molly called out. “Caleb?”

“Ja?” He left off touching a very smooth, waxen leaf on something called a snake plant and turned to face Molly.

“Ms. Nydoorin just offered me a job!”

Caleb’s one and only thought as Molly beamed at him, a combination of pure joy and relief, was that he hoped the world would always be so kind to his tender hearted love. His second thought, as Molly turned immediately back to Yasha Nydoorin, was that it was nice to see Molly make his own friend. She pushed the hair out of her face and behind her ear so shyly, but smiled so wide as they talked, and never once did her gaze stray from Molly. Not even when the door opened and another person walked in, did she look away. Their conversation was intense and all consuming so it seemed, for Yasha to even notice a new customer.

The woman who entered, however, had no compunctions against interrupting. “Schatz,” she said, trying to pull Yasha’s attention. Only then, did Caleb take stock of her appearance.

The complete opposite of her - significant other? There were rings, now that he looked more carefully – wife, the newcomer had straw yellow hair, almost the colour of sunflowers, braided and beaded similarly to Yasha, but wore no shred of black on her person. Instead, she was in a pair of dirtied and torn lightwash jeans and a light green shirt with “Weltwärts” emblazoned across it. Her tanned features were thin and narrow, almost fox-like and her dark eyebrows meticulously shaped in angular points, over which a streak of grease had at some point been wiped unknowingly from her hands. Bright green eyes were locked on Yasha as she took in the situation, assessing naturally, just as Caleb had, he came to realize, the automatic connection between the two.

“Schatz,” she said again, only, that time, she actually managed to catch her wife’s ear. “You have a customer.” She pointed to Caleb, who couldn’t help but smile. “Wasn’t sure you’d noticed.”

“Oh.” She turned to Caleb. “I am sorry. I will be with you in just a moment?” Caleb only kept smiling. “Zu,” Yasha said, enthusiastic, but still very quiet. “Come and meet Molly. He is going to work for me. He likes flowers and is very knowledgeable. Molly, this is my wife, Zuala.”

“Pleasure to meet you,” Molly said, ducking his head a little before holding out his hand to Caleb. “This happens to be my husband, actually. Caleb Widogast.”

“Hallo.” He waved a little, but, at the same time, his pocket began to vibrate. “Ah, entschuldigung. I think this is probably Beau.”

“Sure thing, darling.”

Caleb walked back out of the store as he pulled out his new cell phone, swiping to answer.

“Hallo, hier ist Caleb.”

_ “Dude. You don’t have to answer your cell phone that way every time. It’s  _ your  _ personal cell phone. I know it’s you and you know it’s me.” _

“Hallo, Beauregard.”

_ “That’s better. Are you guys done clothes shopping?” _

“Ja. We are. We are getting Molly a job, at the moment.”

_ “Cool. I’ll come find you guys. Where’re you at?” _

“The florists. It is not too far from where we parked. Just down the hill.”

_ “Gotcha. See you in a bit.” _

“Tschüß.”

Caleb reentered the store to see all three talking, though it wouldn’t be fair to say that all three was animated; for as happy as she was, Yasha seemed to be particularly reserved by nature, an interesting contrast to the loud – verbally and physically – countenance of her new employee and, apparently, wife.

Not too much later, he heard the sound of the door again. As one, they all turned to see Beau enter the store. She stopped dead in her tracks, mouth hanging slightly open, blinking rather rapidly a few times,  as she looked between Yasha and Zuala Nydoorin, instantly lovestruck.

A nervous smile twitched across her features. “H-hh,” she uttered, though, whatever it was supposed to mean was lost on everyone in the room. Slowly she raised a hand and gave a little, pathetic wave. Molly outright snorted, but Caleb had pity on her.

“Yasha, Zuala, this is our very good friend, Beauregard. Beau, this is Yasha and Zuala Nydoorin. Yasha runs the shop and will be employing Mollymauk and her wife owns the garage next door.”

A garbled noise made it out of her mouth before she finally managed to wrangle her brain into functioning enough to say hello, striding up to the counter with a swagger and a shaky smile.

It warmed Caleb’s heart to see.

Some things, it seemed, would never change, no matter how much time passed.

~

That night, Molly was quiet. Caleb noticed it, of course. He had been much himself all through the rest of the day as well as the dinner they’d had with Beau and the Brenattos, but once they’d gotten home, readying themselves for bed, he’s grown uncharacteristically silent, though the presence of his company was no less warm.

Stripping down from his new clothes, only wobbling a little as he stood on one leg, sans tail, Molly moved about the room under Caleb’s still, equally quiet watch.

“Molly?” Caleb asked, voice barely a whisper. “Molly, what is it?”

“Hmm?”

“You are very quiet.”

Molly paused, hanger in hand. “I’m thinking. About what to say.” The shirt slid onto the hanger and put into the wardrobe, his pants folded after, if a little haphazardly.

“What to say?”

“Yes.” Molly looked up. “I said we should talk about it later tonight.”

“Oh.” A rush of emotions flooded through Caleb, and, for whatever reason, he suddenly felt nervous.

A period of silence continued where Molly puttered about the room, thinking apparently, and Caleb, eventually, continued to ready himself as well. Only when they were both in bed, propped up on pillows beside one another, did Molly reach for Caleb’s hand, taking it in both of his own, rubbing his thumb in soothing circles.

“I don’t want to stand between you and your family and friends. I don’t want to cause you to…have a bad relationship with them because of me. You’re not happy, Caleb, and I’m the cause.”

Caleb felt a spark of  _ something _ rise in his throat, his heart constrict. As he went to speak, Molly squeezed his hand, silencing him. “Just…wait. Please. Your mother… your parents believe that this happened because of your memory. But you and I both know the truth. And sure, Beau and Veth know the truth, too, but I know you’re not comfortable lying, asking them to lie, even though all of this was your idea in the first place. I know you’re trying to protect not just me, but yourself as well. And while I may not really…understand the danger you’re afraid of, I know that you don’t do anything unless you really believe its necessary. But I have to do what I think is necessary too, Caleb.”

Pulling Caleb’s hand into his lap, Molly looked up from their joined hands and into his husband’s face. “You can’t move on if you’re mired in guilt, even though your parents and the rest of your friends may be able to. And that’s not fair to anyone.”

Molly sighed heavily. “There is no moving on from guilt and regret, Caleb. Trust me, I know.”

“You know?” Caleb scrutinized Molly heavily. “What do you mean?”

“I’m glad we are where we are, Caleb. I  _ love _ you. Desperately. You are everything anyone in the world would be lucky to find in a spouse. I am not sorry that I am here with you today. I could never be, Caleb. I don’t regret you. I never will. But I  _ am _ guilty in this. I am a divider keeping you from peace with your family, I’ve said that already. But it’s more than that. We never…” Molly cut himself off, shifting a bit as he bit his lip. “We never really talked about what happened to Bren. Not really.”

Caleb shook his head. “What are you talking about, Molly?” But Molly didn’t stop. Tears glittered in his eyes.

“We never talked about the fact that I let him – _ you  _ – die.” Caleb opened his mouth again, but Molly didn’t stop. Tears glittered in his eyes. “That because I let him die, you suffered so much as a child, and still suffer now. We didn’t talk about the fact that I didn’t have to listen to him. That I could have stopped what he was doing, could have pulled him up into my tree and vanished us into the Feywild, away from the people of whom he was so terrified. That I could have saved him, that you would be able to remember your childhood in full, that you would still be in school, getting your degree, without any tension between you and your parents.”

“But I love you!” Caleb cried, grasping at Molly’s hands desperately. “I don’t want things to be different, Mollymauk! I don’t want to be without you!”

“Neither do I want to be without you, Caleb,” he replied, longing shining out from him. “but I still feel that guilt and regret. I have done for years. Innumerable years, Caleb. But now it’s clear from my chest. Now you know. And now, I can find peace with it. And I’m glad. I’m glad of it. But I know how it feels to keep it inside. And I know that it’s not worth living with it. I don’t want you to have to feel like that anymore!”

Caleb was crying too, his eyes shut, but he could still imagine Molly’s earnest, pleading expression, could feel his tears fall on their hands.

“ _ Please _ , Caleb,” Molly said. “either explain why you think this is necessary, or just tell your parents the truth. And I’ll support you, I’ll help you, I’ll do whatever it takes to convince them. Please. I love you and I want to help you and I won’t stand to make you choose a type of happiness, because then it’s not real.”

Caleb shook his head, over and over again, pulling a hand free from Molly, wiping his cheeks. “It will sound insane. We would be called crazy. We would not be believed.”

“But your friends-“

“It isn’t the same, Molly. My parents…it isn’t the same. It is dangerous.”

“But  _ why?” _

“We don’t live in a fantasy world here! It doesn’t exist in the world! If I were to say so, my parents would assuredly think that something much worse was wrong with me and-“

“But how do you know they aren’t like your friends?” Molly took him by the chin, lifting to bring their gazes’ together. “How can you know?”

For that, he had nothing to say.

Molly took in a sharp breath. “Your parents already know that something isn’t right. There wouldn’t be so much tension if they didn’t. And it’s made you sad. Just as sad as being away from them made you, if not more so. And I can’t bare to see it. Please, beloved. Consider it at least. Trust them to believe you. To respect and love you. Please.”

A sad smile crossed Caleb’s face. “I love you and I love them and I will also do what I must to make this work.”

“That’s not an answer.”

“No,” Caleb replied. “It’s not.” Pulling Molly into a hug, he pressed a kiss into Molly’s cheek. “I am sorry, Liebling.”

Caleb felt more than head Molly’s sigh, but he dropped his head to rest on Caleb’s shoulder, and tightened his grip. “I’m sorry, too.”

The scent of Molly’s hair enfolded Caleb and he closed his eyes once again, relishing the hold, the conjoined beating of their hearts. Nothing was ever easy. Even the best things were bittersweet. Eventually, Molly tugged him down, still clinging, bringing the pillows with them, and curled up against Caleb’s chest.

“I love you,” he said, softly, a little tentative, almost questioning.

Caleb kissed his forehead. “I love you, too.”

They didn’t say anything more until sleep took them. 

 


	13. 11.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am very sorry but I apparently forgot it was Friday and missed the update, but! Here we are! At the end! Thanks to Senor_sparklefingers for everything, to pandamenope for the art (and potentially more still to come) and Meridas for helping to inspire. 
> 
> Additionally, I dedicate this fic to the willow tree which inspired it - which was, unfortunately, cut down just last week. Yes, I cried. 
> 
> Be on the lookout for the timestamp "One Year Later: True North" in which our very own Beauregard is in for a BIG surprise. Coming at you next Friday as a part of the brand new 'series' that this story is the main hub of. I may write more oneshots in this verse, we'll see. 
> 
> The last chapter will be the playlist, inspirations, memes and other behind the scenes content. Thank you to all who followed along with this story, and with the "Seasons" series, which is now at a close. See the end notes for news on future stories to come!

 

“Come away, O human child!

To the waters and the wild

With a faery, hand in hand,

For the world's more full of weeping than you can understand.” 

~ William Butler Yeats  
  


But could youth last, and love still breed,

Had joys no date, nor age no need,

Then these delights my mind might move

To live with thee, and be thy love.

~ Sir Walter Raleigh  
  


Children giggled, adults chattered, gravel crunched under car tires and coins jingled in pockets. Every noise imaginable filtered through the clean, clear air. The sky above was a bright summer blue and the wind buffeted warmly across his skin. The smells too, were unique. Foods he’d never heard of were being sold throughout the strangle little market area, and the not too far off the scent of the sea spray tinged the air.

Excitement rose in Mollymauk’s chest as he stepped from the car behind Una, closing the door behind him. Vaguely, far, far away in the mist of his memories, fractured and mostly disintegrated, he recalled this sensation, a similar scene. Once, very, very long ago, perhaps he’d done something similar. From behind, Caleb grabbed his hand pressing a kiss to his cheek in the same moment.

“Hallo Schatz.”

“Hello,” Molly replied warmly, though they’d only just been sitting right next to one another. Caleb smelled of vanilla, a soft fragrance in a place so overwrought with scents. Una turned to look at them, the smile on her face not quite reaching her eyes. Though he attempted to smile back, she turned away, unmoved. He’d try harder, Molly resolved, like he did every time he saw her. And their day at the Störtebekerfestspiele was the perfect opportunity.

Despite his attempts over the several months (Months! He’d been with Caleb in this strange world for  _ months _ . The concept of time actually passing in a uniform fashion was strange and it felt oddly fleeting, as though no time had really passed at all, perhaps because of the fact that he’d done so much in such little time.) following the talk that he and Caleb had had so soon after their arrival, Una remained distant and Caleb remained guilty. Being around them wasn’t difficult, per say; no, indeed, nothing even remotely similar to what had happened that first night had happened again since. She would hug and kiss her son, smile wanly at Molly and treat them both with courtesy and respect whenever they were together, but her whole heart wasn’t in it.

It didn’t help that Caleb still couldn’t bear to look her in the eyes.

Unlike his wife, Leofric had been nothing but accepting and positive, simply happy, it seemed, that Caleb was returned and had found love. The older man had insisted on spending time with Molly, with or without Caleb present. They’d connected over a love of beautiful stones and he’d already begun teaching Molly how to make some jewelry, the first few pieces of which had already been sold at his market stall in town, another location which the young Mr. and Mr. Widogast often frequented, when they weren’t working, that was. And, even more to Molly’s excitement, new wedding rings for the two of them were in progress, though the designs were a surprise for Caleb, who only nodded genially when told to go away lest he see.

Leofric was an easygoing and lovely man and Molly already adored him, but it was Una he had yet to win over. Trying seemed out of the question. To  _ try _ had already been seen poorly. So, instead, though he’d said nothing to Caleb of the matter, Molly decided on a different course of action altogether.

As a nymph, he’d been naturally alluring. And though he bore a different body, that didn’t mean he couldn’t heighten his fey nature a little more than he’d had cause to in a long, long time. For, if he’d learned one thing of Una in the time since they’d met, it was that she was incredibly superstitious. She pressed her thumbs for the least little thing that needed to go well and left milk out for Brownies and told tales about the little dwarves from the Nine-hills and the Hühnengräber. Certainly, there was a precedent for her to believe in nymphs.

The more Molly had thought about it, the more it made sense to him.

Una hadn’t been afraid for Caleb’s sanity.

She’d been afraid that the Fey would make off with her child.

Molly hadn’t dared test the theory with Caleb, but casual observation invited the idea in and further, more studied occasions reinforced it. Though it wasn’t Molly’s natural process, he felt Caleb would have been proud of him. As he’d adapted to life in a world that was – just as Caleb had told him, time and time again – vastly different to his own, he’d started to see the merits of Caleb’s habits. While he’d poked gentle fun at him during their…extended honeymoon in the Feywild, it was clear that the  _ scientific _ , to use the new word, method of doing things wasn’t really all that different from the  _ logical  _ one. As to what the difference between the two words was, well, Molly was still working that out. A few months in the  _ Earth _ world weren’t enough to make sense of that.

Regardless, the time had fairly fled by, until Molly found himself being stuffed into a car unceremoniously to be taken to the place where Caleb, thanks to Fjord’s help, worked five out of seven days a week. Not that he has time to miss Caleb – he was busy enough as it was in Yasha’s shop, a real, true blessing. He’d made a friend, someone infinitely close to his heart, who was odd in her own right and never judgmental and always, always willing to listen. They’d connected in a unique way and their relationship was something that he realized was significantly important to have, despite the fact that he’d never once considered that it wasn’t simply enough to be with Caleb. Once in a while, Molly considered that, if Caleb (as Jester was fond of putting it) was his soul mate, Yasha might be the friend equivalent of that.

There was lot Molly had yet to learn. Some things filtered back over time. Some did not. The fulfilling sensation of real, true friendship wasn’t one of them. Some days, it made him sad for whoever he’d been before. Mostly, it just made him glad that he wasn’t that person anymore, for what was life without love, regardless of who it came from?

As deep in thought as Molly was, he almost missed it when Caleb squeezed his hand before letting go. Veth had just gotten Luc out from the car seat and managed to strap him to her chest securely. Caleb, coming up behind her, bent over at the waist and pressed a quick kiss to the top of her head. Molly smiled in passing at the scene and then redirected his focus, once more, to Una.

It was a double edged sword, his plan. On one hand, it could push her farther away from Caleb, by proxy, and, on the other, it could alleviate the issue entirely. There really was only one way to find out. And, along the way, Molly knew he might just be able to find out something else. Something significant.

His work with Yasha at the florist’s had been going well, but he’d yet to harness the natural magic that had been bequeathed him at some point or another. It was hard to tell if the plants were growing well because of the care her gave them alone, or if his presence was at all encouraging. Regardless, Molly hung back a moment and bent down as if to fix his shoe.

Threading his fingers into the grass, he closed his eyes, and breathed low and deep, focusing harder than he’d ever had to before. Like an itch, that thing which he’d come to identify as his latent magic, sparked at the back of his head, and he felt it twitch and travel, electric, down his spin and into his arm, out and into the ground through his fingers. Every day for the past two weeks, he’d been attempting such a feat, and if there was ever a time for him to be successful, well…

Focusing on channeling that spark, he envisioned the coiling of a tiny green stem, and the unfurling of beautiful green leaves and, finally, tiny little budding blooms, white as the very centre of the sun. When he opened his eyes, the tiny little snowdrop he’d envisioned was twining between his fingers. Small, underdeveloped, but he nearly gasped for his breath from elation as he plucked it with a softly murmured thanks from the ground.

“Caleb?” Molly heard from a distance. “Is your husband coming?”

Quickly, Molly stood and made his way to Una’s side in answer, flashing her his most enigmatic, pearly, and dangerous grin as he bowed with a flourish, the little flower caught between his pointer and thumb. Without a word, she took the flower from him, confused, watching him as he passed her by, not rushing to catch up with Caleb, but not waiting either.

After a moment or two, he felt Una walk up beside him, felt her eyes on him, but kept his gaze away from her, looking out and about at the festival grounds with genuine curiosity. A very soft “Danke” broke the silence between them, and only then did he acknowledge his Mother-in-law, with a nod of the head and a much softer smile.

As he looked back up, Molly noticed Caleb staring at him, a frown growing as he shook his head minutely in Molly’s direction. Upon regrouping, Caleb took Molly by the hand, a by now familiar gesture that Molly tied to their constant affection for one another, and pulled him aside. The expression he wore, however, didn’t match the tenderness with which he held Molly’s hand.

“What are you doing?” Caleb hissed just over the buzzing yammer of the crowd. “What was that, just now, with the flower? How did you do that?”

“I’m attempting to make strides, Caleb, in the only way I know how.” Confused, he narrowed his eyes. “And I did it the way I’ve always done things. It just…takes a bit more effort here.”

“You manifested a flower from  _ nothing _ right in front of my mother!”

“So?” Molly took in Caleb’s stricken expression. “She wasn’t looking, and, even if she had been, what’s the harm? She’d have the proof of her own eyes and then you wouldn’t have to lie about it anymo-“

“Is everything alright?” a lightly concerned voice filtered through the buzz and hum of hundreds of conversations. Leofric was waiting for them, just ahead on the path, while Veth and Una looked around a little souvenir shop, none the wiser.

“Ja, Papa, all is good, danke. We will be right along.”

“Alright, Caleb, no need to be testy.” Leofric held up his hands in a peaceful gesture. “This is supposed to be a good day, ja?”

“Es tut mir leid, Vati. It’s hot.”

Molly bit his lip, waiting until Leofric was turned away, and then took Caleb’s other hand in his own. “You’re in pain.”

“Molly-“

“You  _ are _ . Don’t deny it.”

Caleb looked away and made a face, the precise quality of which Molly could not identify, but he seemed to turn himself inward, and his grip on Molly’s hands had slackened so much that, had Molly let go the tension, they’d have dropped to Caleb’s sides.

“Caleb, my beloved. My darling,  _ please _ . Please look at me,” he begged. “Look at me, Caleb.”

Reluctantly, Caleb’s gaze found Molly’s.

“I’m sorry.”

In an instant, Caleb’s body language shifted and he straightened, lifting his head.

“I’m sorry,” Molly continued. “I didn’t talk to you about it first. And you know this world still far better than I do or ever am likely to, and maybe it was reckless and I was silly to have chosen now to do it. But I’m not sorry for trying to make strides with your mother. You love her so much and she loves you and I can’t stand that there’s bad blood between the two of you because of me. I just want to do something about it. And if you won’t, I will. I have to, Caleb,” he entreated. “Don’t you see? When you’re in pain, we all are, too. We love you.  _ I  _ love you. I always will, but you have to trust me too, Caleb. Trust is half of the deal here, between us. If you don’t trust me, then-“

“Nein!” Caleb broke through, urgently. “I do! I do trust you! I do love you! Ich-this is…” He stopped, shaking his head. “I am afraid.”

“I know.” Molly leaned in, drawing their hands up between them as he came to rest his forehead against Caleb’s. “I am too, a bit.”

“Oh.” Caleb pulled back, but only a hair, before leaning in again, and for whatever silly reason, Molly felt himself tear up. “You seem so happy here, I didn’t consider-“

“And I haven’t advertised,” Molly was quick to add. “so we’re square.”

“I have not been a good husband lately.” Caleb brought Molly’s  hands up to his lips for a kiss. “I will do better.”

“Oh, Caleb, no. You’ve been a lovely husband. We’ve both just been lousy communicators. Things have changed a lot in so short of a time. We just haven’t really sussed anything out yet.”

Caleb smile was a sad one. “Three months is long enough for us to have done so. And yet, neither of us did. Regardless, I am sorry that I did not.”

“Me too. Forgive me?”

“If you forgive me, ja, and if we promise to speak about this together, later.”

“I do forgive you, and we will talk later. And,” Molly pulled a hand away from Caleb’s to push his husband’s glasses up the bridge of his nose, and tuck a loose red lock behind his ear. “Will you trust me today?”

A beat passed between them.

“Ja. I will trust you.”

“Thanks, dear.” Molly pressed a kiss to Caleb’s cheek. “Now. Let’s go reconvene, yeah? We’re having a row in public, after all.”

“Was it a row?” At the look on Caleb’s face, Molly couldn’t help but laugh.

“A little one, maybe.”

Molly put his arm around Caleb’s waist and pulled him into his side, holding him close as they rejoined the others by the kiosk. A few posters hung around, and little blue flags, and even some t-shirts which Molly stuck his nose up at with fake disgust, just to get a rise out of Caleb, who seemed happy enough to stay close by.

“Look!” Veth said, noticing their arrival. “That poster has Fjord! Right there! You see?” Molly squinted, and eventually made out the small figure of Fjord. “Right next to that Shorthalt guy. He’s doing some singing this year. Yeza and I have been debating if he’s making to take over Showmastership from Wolfgang, when he retires, of course. Well…if he ever does.” She beamed at Molly. “Wolfgang Lippert has a lovely voice. And he tends to have interestingly patterned coats, though with a purpose.”

Molly looked down at himself, the bright green linen shirt layered over a pair of multicoloured patchwork pants, and only shrugged.

Veth took it in stride. “I think you’ll like him. Jester and I agree that he’s quite dreamy, but not as dreamy as Alexander Koll. He’s the new Störtebeker this year and Fjord tells us he’s quite good, but we’ll see for ourselves. Really though, my favourite is Bastian Semm. He played in 2013, and I’ve loved him since! Even Yeza agrees with me that he’s a real looker.”

As Veth babbled on happily about the merits of various Störtebekers, Molly couldn’t help but zone out a bit. Caleb’s little town was a generally quiet place and when he wasn’t with Caleb’s family and his new friends, they were in the woods together, or their home, taking time with one another. Being in such a large location with so many people…

A sense of utter exhilaration overcame him, but it was conjoined with an overwhelming desire to simply… merge with the nearest tree for a while. He’d been away from any manner of society for  _ so long _ and had wanted to jump into it  _ so badly _ , but it seemed that a minute to gather his thoughts was in order. He wanted to experience  _ everything _ , but everything was just a bit much. Eventually, he felt the noise fall into a white buzzing space at the back of his skull and found that it wasn’t really that hard to focus any longer.

Once again, he set his sights on Una. She was waiting patiently beside Leofric as he shuffled through various t-shirt designs, watching Caleb as he slipped away from Molly to kneel beside Veth, taking baby Luc’s hands and playing with him. The softest, most gentle look overcame Una and Molly felt his heart go out to the woman.

Letting his eyes close, Molly focused again, twirling his fingers in the open air, allowing it to bend and strafe over his skin, as though it had tangible form and, as if from nothing, though, Caleb’s words didn’t really  _ accurately  _ depict the truth of the matter, a small rainbow formed, just behind Caleb, capturing the child’s – as well as Una’s – attention.

He noticed her twitch immediately and watched her, waiting. Only a moment’s hesitation passed before she turned her head, just her head, to look directly at Molly. Unable to help himself, he gave his most mysterious grin, just a twitch of the lips, a flash of pearly tooth and almost felt bad when her breath caught in her chest and she put a hand to her heart from the shock of it.

A few spare steps brought Molly beside her, still smiling prettily. “You noticed it?”

“N-noticed what?” she stammered.

“The rainbow. I see it too.” It wasn’t a lie. “It befits him, don’t you think?”

“Ich-ah…”

Molly’s treacherous smile softened. “A rare beauty. Caleb, I mean.”

“Oh.” Una was quite pale, and for a moment, Molly actually felt bad.

“Are you alright, Una?” he asked, one hand reaching out to hover at her shoulder. She flinched away before finally settling, her eyes never leaving him.

“I am fine,” she murmured, but it was clear to the both of them that she was lying. “My son is precious indeed. You would do well to remember it.”

Swallowing his immediate response, Molly only nodded solemnly as he formulated something more appropriate to say.  “I cannot forget. I assure you of that.”

Only then did she look away from him, back to rest her gaze with Caleb, expression still hard before striding purposefully forward to join them, leaving Molly behind, alone. He let her go without a fuss, enjoying the excited squeals that Luc made, tiny fists waving at the little rainbow that still shimmered behind Caleb like a halo.

A hand fell on his shoulder and he looked up to see Leofric smiling down at him. “Quite the sight. Are you feeling…misty eyed?”

“Ah,” Molly put two and two together, taken a little off guard. “We’ve not talked about it. I think…I think we’ve enough on our plates at the moment, considering the situation. But maybe. I guess we shall see.” Caleb’s hand rand tenderly over Luc’s chubby cheek and his blue eyes shone bright and excitable as he said something which Molly could not make out. It was a soft and beautiful sight, and for a moment he allowed himself to imagine, but the fantasy wouldn’t quite take hold.

“Not everyone is made for it, but regardless, you are both sure to be wonderful uncles. And that is good too.” As Leofric smiled, the crow’s feet around his eyes crinkled endearingly, and Molly was fast forwarded into another fantasy, a different fantasy, one more reality than make-believe, one he’d never before even conceived of, one where Caleb bore those wrinkles. Where Caleb’s red hair had dulled, turned silver. Molly’s breath caught and he looked away, up to the blueness of the sky, only to be reminded once more of Caleb’s eyes.

“Mollymauk?”

He shook himself from the vision, pushing down  _ that _ realization for another time, though the discomfort lingered and he suddenly wished very much to be at Caleb’s side. “Ah, thank you, Leofric. I’ve enjoyed my taste of uncledom so far. It’s been very nice, but then, Luc is a very nice little boy and I’m terribly lucky to have cut my teeth on such an easy child.”

“If only all things were that simple, eh?”

“Yes, yes, that would be nice,” he replied, but only half focused.

“But,” Leofric said, pushing the bag into Molly’s hands so he could switch his shirts. “If all things were that simple, where would the worth in having experienced it be?”

Pained, Molly felt his mouth open, but no sound came out. His eyes felt hot, his cheeks prickled and his throat constricted. Swallowing hard as Leofric popped his head out of the shirt, Molly banished as much of his stricken expression as he could.

“Yes,” he answered, because there was nothing else he could do. “Yes. You’re right.”

“Well.” Leofric took the bag from him, stuffing the old shirt inside before popping it into his backpack. “Ready?”

Nodding, Molly allowed Caleb’s father to usher him forward and pretended that the kindly gentleman hadn’t noticed the few tears that snuck past his defenses and down his cheeks, drying instantly in the warmth.

Subdued, Molly waited for Caleb to stand before tucking himself into his side.

A soft hand found his hair. “I am sorry if I upset you. I do not want to ruin this.”

“No, Caleb.” Molly replied, nuzzling into the side of Caleb’s head. “It’s nothing you did. Nothing’s ruined. Later, okay?”

He could feel Caleb’s hesitation in the suspension of his breath, which let out loosely after a time. Settled once more, they followed Veth and Una, with Leofric just ahead of them, through the fairgrounds, dallying at only a few stalls before scouting out a picnic table for lunch. Attempts thoroughly derailed, and his heart no longer in the process, Molly made no attempt to manifest any magic on the mortal plane, remaining quiet, though close to Caleb, only nodding when asked about his interest in lunch. He let Caleb order for him and drifted, unfocused, through his thoughts until a water bottle from Caleb’s pack was pushed into his hand.

“Drink, Schatz. You’ll feel better.”

Strangely enough, it was true. Perked up enough to listen in on the conversation, thought much of it was still out of his grasp as far as context went (the mysteries of computers were beyond him, though part of that, Caleb insisted, was his lack of desire to learn), so he turned to people watching. All types were present. Couples young and old, groups of friends, gaggles of teens and adults with children all were running about, or settling in with lunch. Not too far away, a ramshackle stall was pitched where something magnificent…something incredible…something garish and gaudy and  _ stunning _ , was displayed

“Caleb,” he said, nudging him, suddenly anxious with longing. “That  _ coat _ . Caleb, oh  _ Gods,  _ please, Caleb, please! I’m absolutely getting it. Come with me?” It was a vibrant maroon, shining silken, bedecked with all manner of embroidery in neon colours of teal and orange and yellow and purple and, while he’d seen many things that were truly beautiful, nothing quite spoke to him like the coat hanging just within his eyeline.

In the middle of taking a drink, Caleb spluttered, lifting a hand to wipe the trickle of water from his chin. “That?” he asked, stunned. “After  _ everything _ you’ve turned your nose up,  _ that monstrosity _ speaks to you?”

Putting on his best, most endearing, pleading look, eyes wide, Molly fixed his expression firmly unmovable. After a scant few moments, Caleb sighed and smiled, and Molly’s grin spread wide and white across his face a split second later. Energy ratcheted up his spine as he stood straighter and grasped at Caleb’s arm.

“Let’s go!”

Molly fairly dragged him behind, beelining for the stall to make his inquest. Before Caleb could even get out the cash to pay the asking price, the seller had already passed it off to Molly who was sliding it on happily, the silken touch of the fabric against his skin almost as soft as Caleb’s hands skimming over him. When he finally looked up, satisfied with himself, Molly noticed Caleb’s smirk.

“Well, what do you think?”

“You are beautiful, Liebling. It is the person makes the garment, it would seem, and not the other way around. Now, come on. I think my father is back with lunch. You’d better take it off and put it in the pack too, because currywurst will stain.”

“Yes, dear,” Molly singsonged back, pulling a little on the handle at the top of Caleb’s pack to stop him so that he could put the coat safely away. “Hey,” he said as he rolled it up. “Thank you.”

Caleb shrugged. “You work. It is your money too.”

Shaking his head, it took a moment for Molly to realize that Caleb couldn’t see him. “No, beloved. I mean, thank you for not pressing, earlier. I swear I’ll tell you later. But yes, thank you for the coat, too.”

“Anything for you, Molly.”

Molly zipped the bag up before throwing his arms around Caleb from behind and pressing a kiss to his cheek, slow and sensuous, but innocently tender all the same. “The same goes for you, dear. Now. You said something about currywurst?”

The day went faster after that. Una and Caleb began a discussion about his work between bites of food, which Molly tuned out, as much of it was repeats of what he’d heard before at home. Leofric was busy pulling out a pipe, which drew a look of ire from Una, but one of patented satisfaction from her husband. Abruptly, a phone was shoved into Molly’s hand.

Veth was standing beside him. “That’s Beau. Say hi,” she ordered. “I’m off to take care of this one’s diaper.”

Gladly, Molly pressed the phone to his ear, still, after three months, marveling at the technology. “Hey Beau.”

_ “Hey, asshole, what’s up?” _

A fond greeting, to be certain. Molly shook his head with mirth. “We’re at Störtebeker without you.”

_ “What!”  _ Her voice was so loud, he had to pull the phone away a distance.  _ “Dude! But you guys said that you’d take me when I’m down in two weeks!” _

“We will, but we’re going with Caleb’s parents today.”

_ “Oh. Well. How’s things on that front?” _

Somewhere along the line, despite the fact that Beau wasn’t always around in person, Molly had managed to find in her an impossibly supportive friend.

“Not fabulous, but I’m working an angle. Wish me luck.”

_ “Yeah, dude, good luck.” _ A muffled sound came over the speakers, leaving Molly with the impression that Beau didn’t really think he had much of a chance.  _ “Tell your man I said hey.” _

“I’ll tell Caleb, yes.” His eye roll was audible.

_ “Oh you’re fucking ridiculous. Whatever. See you soon, asshole.” _

“Takes one to know one. Bye, Beau.”

_ “Bye, Molly _ . _ ” _

After a moment’s fond reminiscing, he passed the phone back to Veth, who took it absently, fussing with Luc. A hand fell on his shoulder and suddenly, Caleb was between them.

“We must get to our seats. The show is about to begin and Jester is waiting for us.”

The open seating arena was an expanse of blue plastic chairs most of which already contained people, the rest of whom were like the rushing of a stream, pushing against their little group as everyone flooded into place. Upon seeing them, Jester stood, flinging her arms about, her blue hair in curls that bounced on her shoulders as she jumped up waving to them eagerly. They were on the far side of the aisle, all the way at the end, so that Veth had easy access to leave, should Luc require anything or get fussy. Molly found himself on the other side of Jester, with Caleb beside him and Una and Leofric capping their little group off.

A hush fell, an announcer spoke and Molly, eyes fixed upon the wide open stage, fell entranced as the story began to unfold. Music swirled, deep, rough voices projected wonderfully, intermingled with the whinnying of horses, and fire plumed and danced along the stage as the tale unfolded before them.

Once, he heard a soft chuckle come from Caleb, breaking him out of his immersion, and noticed for the first time that he was gripping Caleb’s hand overly tight in his own. He made to release it, grimacing apologetically, but Caleb only held tighter, leaning over to press a kiss to his cheek before settling back in, attention firmly on the stage.

Abruptly, some time later, the show stopped, right in the middle of the story. With alarm, he turned to Caleb. “That’s it?!”

“Nein, Schatz. That is the intermission. A break to stand and stretch, use the bathroom, and buy more merchandise before we settle back in for the end, ja?”

A surprising flood of relief cleared the endorphins and Molly sagged back in the chair. “I don’t understand,” he whispered to Caleb earnestly. “I’ve watched your movies before and you’ve read me books, why is it like this all the time? Why is there so much feeling for things that aren’t real? That are just imagined?”

Caleb shrugged, caught in a half laugh. “Stories make the human race who they are,” he said, pressing a hand to Molly’s cheek before standing to lay a kiss to the top of his head. “I’ll elaborate later, if you want. Now. I am going to get some water, do you want to come or would you rather I bring you something back? Molly?”

“Hmm?” he resurfaced from his thoughts, dazed. “No, I’ll stay here.”

“Okay, Schatz. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

For a while, Molly simply sat, thinking, not paying much attention to anything around him. The others had all gotten up to stretch at least, and he was so deep in thought that when Veth sat down next to him, he spoke without even looking at her.

“Am I even human?”

“Entischuldigung?”

At first, it didn’t strike him. The voice was wrong, entirely, for one, but Molly had to turn completely before fully recognizing what was off about it.

Una was settled next to him, looking at him with wide eyes, bright with…fear?

Molly did the only thing he could. He laughed and spun the quickest half-truth of which he was capable. “My pardon, that must have sounded strange. I haven’t felt the need to get up, yet, despite how long we’ve been sitting. I should probably stretch.”

He watched Una’s expression carefully, and while it softened from the sharpness that terror lent it, not all the wary wonder was gone from her eyes.

“Ah, ja, that would probably be good for you. You are too young for aching bones.”

Playing along, Molly stood and arched his back, catlike, trying not to laugh again at the idea of being young in anything other than appearance. Instead, he focused on the fact that he could feel Una’s eyes on him, still, almost as if she expected to see something that wasn’t – couldn’t – be there.

“Something the matter, Una?” Molly asked, still facing the stage.

A moment’s hesitation drifted between them. “Nein.”

Before Molly could reply, the announcer came back over the speakers, encouraging people to return to their seats. Behind him, he heard Una move back to her own seat, and then the unmistakable voices of Veth and Jester chatting entered his hearing and the moment was passed.

~

The car ride home consisted mostly of silence. They’d met with Fjord afterward to congratulate him on a job well done, and then split off, as he and Jester would be staying around a little while longer for a cast shindig. Caleb, while an official employee, was under no such obligation and Veth needed to get Luc back home. And so, while the baby slept, the car’s inhabitants only occasionally whispered at risk of waking the child.

Molly and Caleb were curled up together in the back, and it was all Molly could do not to drift in and out of slumber from the motion of the vehicle and the warmth of his husband beside him in the dark quiet. He wasn’t exactly tired, but it had been a long day. Although he’d known to expect that, he hadn’t quite anticipated all of the pressing existential questions to be revealed to his psyche in the process. Without anything else to occupy him, aside from the soft sound of Caleb’s breathing, Molly found himself fixating on them.

Oddly, the question of whether or not he was human was the lesser of the two. He certainly looked human enough, but he could still wrest magic if he focused hard enough. In Exandria, the usage of magic wouldn’t have been enough to disinclude him from humanity, had he ever actually been a human while living there. But in Caleb’s world? No one had magic, and everyone who was humanoid was human, which lead Molly to the only conclusion possible.

Just because he looked human, didn’t make him any less a nymph. He just wasn’t a tiefling, anymore.

It was a far less world tilting realization than he’d feared.

The other, he still wasn’t ready to deal with, and pushed it away in favour of thinking about Una once more. She had to suspect, after everything she’d seen from him that day, but whether or not she’d confront him was something Molly wasn’t yet sure of. He hadn’t meant to frighten her at all, just rouse her suspicion, but then, subtle had never really been a skill in his repertoire.

Before long, Veth dropped them off at the Widogast house, saying goodbye for the evening with a wave and her quietest voice possible. Molly was about to follow Caleb to their own little vehicle, but Leofric waved them over.

“Stay for a while, bitte?” Leofric asked. “You haven’t come round recently. We have some new wine to try and plenty to share. Come in, come in.” Caleb made a sound of agreement and started forward and Molly immediately made to follow him, but a hand fell on his wrist, pulling him aside.

Una.

Leofric’s voice was still audible, as was Caleb’s, and neither of them seemed to have noticed that the other two of their number were no longer present. In the darkened corner of the house, the lamp sent strange shadows from the hedge cascading over her features, making her look mousy and nervous. The heat of the evening was accentuated by the humidity and the air felt close around them, and so achingly familiar to Molly’s old home that a few flowers bloom in the grass at their feet.

“Please, don’t take my son away from me.”

The fear in her voice was palpable, and she was shaking, but somehow, she still seemed ferocious in stature, and her gaze seared him physically. Suddenly, her jittering hands parted and the ground before them was strewn with loose birdseed, and Una was backing away as Molly looked down, perplexed. A hesitant smile drew across his face as the connection fitted together in his mind and he took a step forward, purposefully, but not enough to cause Una to draw back further. Just enough to have her expression draw in, lined with concern and alarm.

“What manner of fae are you then?” she gasped in awe and Molly chuckled.

“Not that kind.” He ran a hand back through his curls and pondered, now that the moment had arrived, how to best handle it.

“You are from  _ that _ place. That place that Caleb goes in dreams. Tell me, was any of what you fed us the truth? Does my Caleb even  _ remember _ where he has really been for a year? Does he know what you  _ are _ ?”

Molly put his hands out, open and retreating, a placating measure. “Please, let me explain. I’m not here to take your son from you. I’m not here to charm and beguile him. I’m not here to turn his head, to fill him with fancy and lead him away, ne’er to return. You must believe me, Una, of that much at least. I will tell you the truth, and answer any question you may have, truthfully, but I promise you that I mean your family no harm, and never have. Will you allow me to explain?”

Warily, she glared at him before giving her assent.

“Good. Then, lets to the back garden? Somewhere more comfortable than this, and a little less clandestine?”

She didn’t answer him, but began to walk, never taking her eyes from him once. “What manner of fae are you?” she asked again, firmly, demanding an answer.

“I’m a nymph of the dryad sort, to be quite frank,” he answered, brushing his hand along the clematis that grew upon the lattice at the side of the house. Long since past their prime, they were all leaves and no blooms. As his fingers left their proximity, blossoms sprung into being in his wake, leaving Una gasping as she looked on. “I like plants and flowers especially. And I like your Caleb. I  _ love _ your Caleb.” Molly stopped to brush a delicate petal, tenderly, and the center of the white blossom turned a vivid, uncharacteristic red, the same shade as Caleb’s fiery hair. “I love him so much that I gave up  _ everything  _ for him, Una. I’ve bound myself to your son, not the other way around. You see,” he met her gaze, melancholy. “I don’t know if I can ever go back to where I came from, now that I’m here. Caleb is my home. He’s all I have.”

Una bit her lip, her gaze fixed on the unique flower. “Does he know what you are? Answer me truthfully.”

“I’ve promised to do so,” he reiterated. “Yes. Caleb well knows what I am. And yes, he was in…my realm. In my glade for the past year. It wasn’t…I swear to you that it wasn’t intentional. I didn’t want him to come to me, I wanted to go to him. Only, I couldn’t. Your Caleb saved me. Freed me, but trapped himself in the process. It may have been my home, but it's no sort of life when you can’t  _ leave _ it. And I’ve been tied to my glade for many, many years. So many that I can’t remember how many. Stuck in time and place, waiting. And I’m sorry that he nearly suffered that same fate. Truly.”

“But,” she sounded confused. “Why Caleb?”

Molly sighed heavily. “Because it’s always been Caleb. Before he was called Caleb, it was still he who came to free me. His name, then, was Bren, and he died in his last attempt to sever my tethers. And I mourned for years innumerable. And then, one day, your Caleb wandered into my glade in his dream and I fell desperately in love. Caleb says that it sounds like a fairy tale, but I suppose that’s apt then, isn’t it?”

When he glanced up, Molly saw that Una was crying. “Thank you for raising your son the way you did,” he began again, a little more softly. “Thank you for helping him become the man that I love, a man who risked much to help me. So, I ask you now, since there wasn't an opportunity to do so when we married, if you are willing to accept my place in your son’s heart?”

She inhaled a sharp breath. “You will treat it with the honour it deserves?”

“Always. With everything I am.” He put a hand to his chest. “I’ll swear it on whatever you like, on whatever will bind me to my word, if you want me to, though I assure you, it won’t be necessary. There is no one else for me, and there never will be.”

A long moment passed where Molly thought for sure that Una would walk away from him completely before she swallowed, hard and sighed. “You truly mean to do him no harm? There is nothing malicious in you? You’ve not entrapped my son?”

“I swear to you that I’ve not. I’m no siren, and though at first, I thought Caleb merely a beautiful memory of a love once lost, and then latched to the hope that I might be free, all of that pales in comparison to the person that I came to know, the man that I love.” Molly’s throat felt thick. “I have never taken advantage of his affections or his kindness, and nothing hurts me more than to see how much pain he has been in trying to balance his love for the both of us. I sought to find a way to tell you the truth. He freed me of my bindings, and I bound myself to him freely. The least I could do was free him from chains he’d put on himself. Please,” he entreated. “Please, believe me. Go to him. He loves you. You’re his mother. He’s never wanted to make you unhappy. And I never want him to be either. Please.”

Una’s weighted gaze affixed Molly in place where he stood, awaiting her final judgement as though it were a matter of life or death. In some ways, that wasn’t terribly far off.

Finally, after an excruciating moment, Una, biting her lip, nodded. “I believe you.” It was no softer than the whisper of a butterflies wing, but Molly heard it clearly still, and his stance finally flagged in relief.

“Thank you. Thank you,” he replied, fairly sobbing in relief, and for the first time, he felt the gentle touch of his mother-in-law’s hand to his cheek.

“Nein. I am the one who should thank  _ you _ . You are trying to help. Without you, I do not know when or if this would have been possible.”

“Even though I’m the reason it happened in the first place?”

A small, wavering smile grew to life on her lips. “Ja. Shall we…go inside?”

“Yes. Please.”

A curt nod accompanied the smile and her fingers fell away from his face as she turned towards the warm yellow glow of the kitchen windows. Molly could see Caleb and Leofric sitting at the table, their backs to the patio, the perfect picture of harmony, and the joy at what had just transpired welled up within him, pushing forth hot tears once again, though they felt sweet instead of bitter. He hung back a moment, as Una opened the sliding door and stepped inside, watching as Caleb turned to look up at her, an indiscernible expression on his face, as Una took his hand, urging him to stand, as she pulled him into a tight, secure embrace. He almost missed it when Leofric turned from the mother and son to look out at him, he was so enraptured in the watching, and beckon him inside with a wave.

Carefully, Molly slid the door open. Caleb looked up at him from his mother’s shoulder, his pale face red and streaked with tears, and mouthed “danke” silently.

“I love you,” Molly mouthed back silently, tears still streaming. Finally, Caleb was truly home.

~

The car ride home had been quiet. Caleb was waiting; Molly could tell. Though waves of contentment rolled off of him, and his jaw wasn’t clenched tight, there was a hesitance to the silence, full of many unspoken things. The rest of the evening had gone quite well. Leofric hadn’t asked any questions and no one offered him any answers. He seemed generally content that his wife and their son were no longer at odds, with little care as to the reason for it in the first place. They’d opened a bottle of wine, drinking sporadically through a game of Carcassone, which Molly played as Caleb’s partner, instead of by himself. When it was over, and they were leaving, Una had pulled him into a hug; it left Molly feeling good, if a little strange. There was so much still that was new, though the summer was well into its course, and spring some months behind them, but feeling Una’s care in that embrace was unlike anything he’d ever known before. Another thing filed away to be considered later.

Now, in the house, readying for bed, Molly could practically hear Caleb attempting and failing to begin a conversation. Molly didn’t mind, going about his usual routine, happy to wait until his husband was ready to speak. They were pulling the covers down from their bed when Caleb finally said something other than, ‘can you pass the toothpaste’.

“There is nothing I can do to repay you for what you did.”

When he spoke, Molly saw that he didn’t look up from the mattress, fidgeting a little with the edge of the sheet. Weighing his response in his mind, Molly slid into bed and then patted the space beside him. “Come lay with me, Caleb.”

He did, still avoiding Molly’s eyes, though he reached instantly for Molly’s hand, clasping it tightly.

“There is nothing – ever – for you to repay. I’m yours, and you’re mine. There is no debt between us now or ever. I did only what I had to do. I couldn’t let you suffer, Caleb. I love you too much for that.” Molly lifted Caleb’s face to his own, a finger beneath his chin. “I would do anything for you. I was wrong to try first without telling you, but I’m not sorry that it ended well.”

A nervous laugh escaped Caleb then, and he blinked shining eyes in the dim light of their bedroom lamp. “I am not sorry that it did either. But I am sorry that I let it get to this point. I was afraid. For you…but also for myself. And that was selfish.”

“Sounds like we both had the best of intentions.”

“Ja, sounds like.”

A comfortable silence fell, and Molly was just getting ready to ask Caleb if they should turn out the light when, out of the blue, Caleb spoke again.

“Molly, are you happy? Here, I mean?”

Molly closed his eyes and breathed deeply. When he opened them, Caleb was watching him worriedly. Reaching out a finger, Molly pushed away a lock of Caleb’s hair from his face, and brushed it down his forehead and around to the side of his face, lingering over the place where, someday, his husband would inherit Leofric’s endearing crow’s feet.

“I am. I like that I’m near a beautiful, ancient forest. I have friends, something I can’t ever recall having before, and a job, where I’m valued and useful, and family, people who care about me, even though they wouldn’t have to. And I have you, of course. Once, maybe, I thought that you were all I would need in life, and in a way that’s still true. You opened me to the possibility of having this. A real,  _ true _ life. A fulfilling life. And I wouldn’t give up  _ any _ of it to go back to the way things were. We were happy though, in my glade, weren’t we?”

“Ja, of course. I just wanted to make sure.” Caleb’s brows drew in. “Is there something else? I sense an ‘aber’.”

Molly rolled to his back at the question, staring at the ceiling. “I just, well….today, I realized that we’d grow old. That’s all.”  

“Oh.” Caleb’s voice was small.

“I looked into your father’s face this morning, and it just…dawned on me. That someday, you’d have those crows feet. And that your hair won’t shine copper like the lake at sunset, and that we won’t be able to traverse the woods so easily when our hips and knees ache with age. I’m not…upset. Just,” he paused and folded his hands over his middle. “I wasn’t ready to realize it when I did.”

He could hear the brush of skin against the sheets and suddenly, Caleb was leaning over him, looking down with concern etched into his features. “That will not be for a long time, mein Schatz”

Molly smiled, almost amused at Caleb’s misunderstanding, though it was still melancholy. “You and I have a very different understanding of the phrase ‘a long time’, beloved. Everything is short if you compare it to forever.”

“But you did say ‘we’. ‘We will grow old.’ Together, Molly,” Caleb replied, quiet but impassioned. “Just like our vows to one another.”

Fondness curled up warm in Molly’s heart. “You’ve had your whole life to come to grips with the fleetingness of mortality. I’ve had three months. Give me time, Caleb. That’s all I ask.”

Caleb nodded vigorously. “Of course, whatever you need.”

“Hold me?”

“Always,” Caleb said, settling back down beside Molly, close into his side, scootching an arm beneath him to pull him in close, and pressed a kiss to his temple.  

“Love me?”

“Forever.” 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stay Tuned: 
> 
> (I Am) Stretched On Your Grave: A Widomauk Ghost Story
> 
> Mollymauk Tealeaf is the founding member of TMA, a Parapsychology Agency who handles ghosts for a living. After an incident that left Molly out of the game for far too, long, he returns with a mysterious case. The case of one Caleb Widogast, who supposedly started a fire in his childhood home. Now Caleb is back, causing trouble for those who own the place, and Molly must figure out a way to handle getting back in the game, as well as a few shocking revelations, about himself and Caleb alike.  
>  
> 
> Debt of Vengeance: A Perc'ahlia Legal Thriller/Murder Mystery
> 
> After nearly losing it all almost nine years before when his family was tragically murdered, Percival de Rolo finally has everything he could ever have ever wanted, considering: his life, his sister, friends, a burgeoning relationship with the woman of his dreams, and a business that he adores. After the many difficulties he’s gone through in his life, things are finally looking up.  
> And then, Anna Ripley, the woman who once almost killed him, is found brutally murdered in her home, and there’s only one suspect.  
> Him.


	14. Extra Features

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Behind the Scenes Look at the creation and development of Even To The Wild Woods

Wedding Rings!

Caleb: 

 

Molly:

 

 

Playlists: 

Part 1 Theme: 

Dance of the Druids  [ https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ePvO4DMWMD8 ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ePvO4DMWMD8)

 

For Exandria and the Feywild 

Celtic stuff with ambient noise  [ https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NoKqKjTUMw0 ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NoKqKjTUMw0)

Annti martikainen:  [ https://anttimartikainen.bandcamp.com/album/throne-of-the-north ](https://anttimartikainen.bandcamp.com/album/throne-of-the-north)

[ https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=U5u9glfqDsc ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=U5u9glfqDsc)

Celtic nature ambience:  [ https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0CTr1wCWK4k ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0CTr1wCWK4k)

Fantasy ambience:  [ https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zloJ_yptWU0 ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zloJ_yptWU0)

Shire ambience:  [ https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=30b7_S0paCQ ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=30b7_S0paCQ)

Imladris ambience:  [ https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=62j1xAdYKAQ ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=62j1xAdYKAQ)

 

Solitude tribute skyrim:  [ https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6HZdlZXlXUs ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6HZdlZXlXUs)

 

For Time Spent in Germany:

Overachiever by Louden Swain  [ https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EZDI8Az6GR8 ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EZDI8Az6GR8)

Sugar by Maroon V  [ https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=k8f4lcwKz6g ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=k8f4lcwKz6g)

Such mich find mich by OOMPH  [ https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SzBU_tZfS5M ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SzBU_tZfS5M)

Fliegerlied  [ https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Z7_cxljH7Rs ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Z7_cxljH7Rs)

Uber den Wolken  [ https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=M4aQEyYsygU ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=M4aQEyYsygU)

 

Beau's Music:

Verloren im paradies by PA Sports  [ ://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mNB-9cZtmpo ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mNB-9cZtmpo)

Peter Fox Self Titled Album: [https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=G2wUJNd8QXE&list=PLphDX47D74dUwUwEOnMjErA-i6cAu3pi4](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=G2wUJNd8QXE&list=PLphDX47D74dUwUwEOnMjErA-i6cAu3pi4)

 

Love Themes and Sexy Times:

Woodwork  [ https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2ZQ4V9J4DhM ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2ZQ4V9J4DhM)

Florence Instrumental   [ https://youtu.be/HwchAJcsxVk?list=PL-fEGV0OsWKiGBt82W6FGvqJCdGHGjPrz ](https://youtu.be/HwchAJcsxVk?list=PL-fEGV0OsWKiGBt82W6FGvqJCdGHGjPrz)

In the night instrumental  [ https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HMvVspR5x-0 ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HMvVspR5x-0)

The Mystic’s Dream by Loreena McKennit ;  [ https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QFAfWH_CKVw ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QFAfWH_CKVw)

Together we will live forever  [ https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SjVO2t8BH9w ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SjVO2t8BH9w)

 

The Two Trees:  [ https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aFlLH_KxUis ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aFlLH_KxUis)

 

 

Memes! 

 

 

 

The following Memes made by Tommy from the Widomauk Discord. Thanks, my friend, you're amazing. 

 

 

 

 


End file.
